Just Another Face In The Crowd
by silverlininginwriting
Summary: Destiel High School AU. Dean is struggling to look after Sam by himself and work two jobs all while remaining at high school. Dean's grades are slipping and his teacher Castiel is trying to figure out why. Cas wants Dean to open up to him, and in doing so, he falls for his damaged, and completely off-limits student. Rated M for violence, sex, mature themes etc.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Destiel High School AU. Dean is a student, Cas is his teacher. Dean spends all his time working and looking out for Sammy but has no real time for his school work. He begins to give up on himself and Cas tries to help him, like he would with any student. Problems arise when they begin to develop feelings for each other.

**Rating:** Currently T, will be M for mature themes in later chapters.

**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel

**Spoilers:** None. AU.

**Notes:** Sam is 15, Dean is 17 turning 18, and Castiel is his teacher and is 24. John left Dean and Sam a year and a half ago and they've been living on their own since.

* * *

"Come on Sammy, school today!" Dean calls, banging on his brother's white bedroom door. "It's time to get up!" He hears a muffled 'jerk' from behind the peeling painted door and he laughs a deep laugh. "Bitch" He calls back. Sam emerges from his room, long shaggy brown hair ruffled and curled out at the ends from tossing and turning in his sleep. "We need to get you a haircut" Dean smiles, reaching up to tug a thick lock of his younger brother's hair. Sam frowns before knocking his hand away. "I like it long" He replies defensively. Dean laughs and heads downstairs. "Don't shower for too long, we need the hot water, and we'll be late for school." He says over his shoulder.

The living room is a complete mess as he passes through it, his feet kicking over piles of dirty laundry, car magazines and various items thrown aside by the two teenage boys. The kitchen isn't much better, dishes piling up hazardously next to the sink. It's hard to find time to clean up when you're working two jobs and still going to school. Dean hurriedly starts on breakfast, humming along to AC/DC on the radio as he makes Sam toast and eggs, and tries unsuccessfully to find something healthy for Sam's school lunch in the mostly empty fridge.

Sam bounds down the stairs, his long legs taking three steps at a time. "Jesus Sammy! Keep it up and you'll be too tall for this house" Dean exclaims, handing him his breakfast. "How tall are you now?" He asks curiously. "Last time I checked I was 6'2." Sam answers, wolfing down his breakfast. Dean's mouth pops open in surprise. "Shit Sammy, I'm 6ft. How the hell did you get so big?" Dean punches his arm affectionately, masking his worry with a grin.

"I'll stop growing soon." Sam tries to assure him, seeing through his older brother but Dean just shakes his head, eyeing Sam's holey old jeans, sitting too high up on his ankle. "You need new jeans again." He scrambles in his head trying to work out how much money he earned last week and how much of it is left. Not enough, he sighs.

Sam's face twists with guilt, almost willing himself to shrink. "Sorry Dean." He mutters. "Don't worry 'bout it buddy. We'll manage. We always do." Dean ruffles Sam's still damp hair and claps him on the shoulder. "Come on, we better get going. It's PB&J sandwiches for lunch today." Sam winces at the lunch bag his older brother passes to him. Dean merely offers an apologetic smile. "I'll get to the grocery store tonight, I promise."

The drive to school is silent, aside from the radio spilling Metallica into Dean's 1967 Chevrolet Impala. "I don't know why you like listening to this stuff." Sam finally says, his hand snaking out towards the radio before Dean slaps it away. "House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole." He laughs to himself at the use of his common phrase. Sam's forehead burrows and he turns to look out the window. Dean shoots him a sideways glance.

"Sammy?" He asks. "What's up?"

"Dad called me." Sam replies stiffly.

Dean is quiet for a moment, processing, before his anger and hurt kicks in. "Dammit Sammy, how many times do I have to tell you? Don't pick up. He left us, remember?" Dean hits the dashboard with his palm. "He can't come crying to you every time he's drunk and needs someone to listen to his bullshit." His knuckles turn white against the steering wheel as he grips it tightly.

"He said he missed us." Sam breathes, hope held high in his voice.

"I'm sorry Sammy, but I know John, okay? He just misses having people around to heave him up to his bed when he's passed out and someone to take it out on when there's no alcohol left." Dean pulls into the school parking lot, parking the car in one of the few remaining spots. The bell has already rung.

Sam turns to look at Dean. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't pick up, but I do. Just in case, he might really need us."

"Well we really needed him Sammy. And he bailed. It's just me and you."

Sam's face is crumples in hurt and Dean sighs, voice softening.

"I know you keep hope that he'll get himself together and come home, and everything will be fine, but we have to be realistic. He's a deadbeat, Sammy. And he doesn't deserve to be in your life after what he put you through."

Sam frowns. "He put us both through it Dean."

"I know, but I'm older, and tougher than you, and I have more experience in the 'Disappointment' that is John Winchester. You were just a kid."

"I'm fifteen now, I can handle this." Sam argues.

"But somebody has to be your parent. And in the meantime, I guess you're stuck with me." Dean pushes Sam toward the door. "Come on Sammy, you're late! Get out of the car."

Sam sneaks a sideways hug at Dean before he tumbles out the door, throwing his backpack on. "See you later!" He yells, running towards his accelerate maths class. Dean smiles in affection as he watches Sam go.

He climbs out of the Impala slowly, slinging his bag over one shoulder, frowning slightly at the establishment before him. The only reason he's still in school instead of full time work was he'd promised Bobby he would graduate.

If Dean stayed in school and graduated, Bobby would let the two brothers live alone, only stopping in occasionally with groceries or to watch a sports game and have a beer or two with Dean. Bobby Singer was an old family friend, one who'd fallen out with John Winchester years ago, but still looked out for his boys. He was practically their surrogate father.

Dean must call in to see Bobby, he remembered. He needed more hours at Singer Auto Repair, Bobby's mechanics business, to buy Sam's new textbooks for his accelerate classes, and they hadn't caught up in a while, what with Dean juggling work and school simultaneously. Dean was free after school, deciding to drop by the shop to see his friend and father-figure.

Lucky he had a shift at the Roadhouse the next night though, they were running thin on most essential items. Dean was still thinking about all the things they needed to buy when he arrived in his literature class, fifteen minutes late. "Sorry Mr Novak." Dean mumbled as he passed the front of the room, keeping his head down like always. Mr Novak looked up from his desk, watching the teen walk by with his back slightly hunched, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Dean flops into a vacant seat at the back of the room, managing to pull out his textbook just as Mr Novak arrives at the side of his desk. He kneels, explaining the assignment to Dean while the other students chat amongst themselves and pretend to do their work. Dean nods, although he has no idea what the quiet teacher is saying to him, mind still elsewhere.

"Dean?" Mr Novak asks with concern in his voice. "Yeah?" Dean looks up in surprise. "I asked if you will need an extension for this task. You are quite behind in the book work." Mr Novak repeats himself, blue eyes piercing Dean's, waiting for him to respond. Dean shrugs and opens his fraying second-hand textbook, pretending to be reading the page he flipped it to.

"Dean?" Mr Novak says again. Dean's fist balls up in frustration. _Why can't he just leave him alone?_ "What?" Dean replies flatly, not looking up from the page. "We're in chapter 12, for Shakespeare. We haven't started on film yet." The young teacher laughs quietly to himself before seeing to another student with their hand raised. Dean glances at the title and swears at himself.

When the bell goes, he is first out the door, not wanting to give Mr Novak a chance to ask him about the last assignment he never handed in.

* * *

The rest of his classes pass without incident. He sits in the back, shoulders slumped, as non-descript as possible. He does enough work to not draw the teacher's attention; fearing they might remember who he used to be and wonder to themselves what happened. He doesn't need teachers sticking their nose into his life, he can handle looking after himself and Sammy just fine. _Besides_, Dean thought to himself. _I'm almost eighteen. Almost a legal adult. Why should it matter if I'm one month out? I can still look after my baby brother. No one else was going to. John Winchester wasn't looking after his kids, that's for sure._

Dean thought back to eighteen months ago, how normal his life was. Dean Winchester; the best quarter-back Milton High had seen in two decades, the king of the playground, the most popular guy in school, now he's just another face in the crowd, with a handful of acquaintances and an abundance of D's on his report card.

Dean used to have it all. The title, the popularity, the cliché 'Jock' high school experience, and then John upped and left, throwing all that Dean had prided himself on, into the gutter. Dean had to quit football to work, losing his fame and prestige in the process. Dean knew the people he had called friends really weren't just that if they ditched him as soon as he wasn't a sports star, but it still burned him being left completely alone. Only Jo stuck by him, forcing herself back into his life, even when he tried to shut those last few people out.

"Heya Deano." Jo kisses his cheek as she slots herself onto the bench next to him. "Ugh" Dean wipes his face with the back of his hand, pulling a face at her. "Relax there's no one around." She grins, sweeping her blond hair off her shoulders. "Why are you sitting outside by the way? It's like thirty degrees." Jo pulls her crème coat tighter around herself, shivering slightly at the chill in the air. "Just like you said, there's no one around." Dean answers, pulling apart his PB&J sandwich with his fingers. The table and bench they're sitting at is one of many scattered around the outside of the lunchroom, popular in the spring when the weather's warmer but deserted in the colder months and only visible from the lunch room if you're tall enough to reach the high windows, which nobody is, Sam probably being the only exception. The spot is just how Dean likes it.

Jo offers him a cigarette and Dean takes it, lighting it between his lips and exhaling. "Jeez Jo, does Ellen know you're smoking again?" He asks. Ellen is Jo's mom and the owner of the Roadhouse, the local bar where Dean works. He's technically underage and can't work in the bar but Ellen's good to him and he needs the money, plus people in this town know to stay out of other people's business.

Jo shrugs and tries to light her cigarette, leaning toward him to shield the flame. "Here." Dean moves closer, his hands cupping her cigarette, his own still in his mouth. The flame catches and they stay like that for a moment, before Dean pulls back and extracts his cigarette from his mouth, blowing out a stream of smoke.

Nearby footsteps has Dean turning toward the sound, hoping it's not another jock goon trying to show him up. He blinks in surprise, seeing Mr Novak strolling across the teacher's parking lot, briefcase in hand, deep blue tie and crisp white shirt slightly askew, dark hair pushed up in every direction. He doesn't notice them as he unlocks his plain silver car and slides into the front seat, door still open, one leg dangling outside. Dean watches as he opens his glove box and retrieves a small carton, shaking out a cigarette.

Jo continues talking about her mom, and Dean is only half listening.

Mr Novak puts the cigarette in his mouth and raises his shiny zippo lighter to the tip, relaxing as he inhales, falling back into the seat. He opens his eyes and catches Dean's stare. They maintain eye-contact for a few more seconds until Mr Novak glances at his cigarette, seemingly undecided on whether he should put it out or not. Dean takes a long drag on his and turns back to Jo.

"Oh god, is that Mr Novak?" Jo suddenly whispers, hand bearing her smoke dipping under the table. "Yeah but he's smoking too. No need to hide it." Dean assures her. "What makes you think he won't report us?" Jo looks at their cigarettes nervously. "He won't, he's good like that." Dean glances over his shoulder, the quiet and slightly weird literature teacher still where he was ten seconds ago, still leaning back in his seat, enjoying his vice, massive blue eyes still on Dean.

* * *

**A/N** This is my first fic, so if you'd like to review, constructive criticism would be great. Just so you know, I am a New Zealander, so sorry if there are terms you don't understand, or any spelling different to American/the rest of the world's spelling of English words. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings:** profanity, language etc.

**Rating**: T

* * *

After school, Sam opts out on a visit to Bobby's, arguing he has too much homework. Dean rolls his eyes, but then again, homework for him never comes first. He drops Sam in front of the house.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam asks as he's getting out of the Impala. "Yeah Sammy, What do you want?" Dean looks up from the cassette tapes he was flicking through. "I'm sorry about this morning." Sam bites his lip hesitantly. "It's okay Sammy. I'm sorry too." Dean glances back at him with a smile, trying to take his mind off of what happened. "Hey what do you want from the grocery store?"

Sam taps a beat on the passenger door while he thinks. "Oi, greasy fingers off my baby thanks." Dean frowns at him. Sam laughs and removes his hands, holding them up in the air with a guilty expression. "Sorry. I don't know. Healthy stuff please. I get sick of pie."

"Sick of pie?" Dean's mouth drops in horror. "I'm kidding. But please, fruit and vegetables wouldn't kill us." Sam grins. "Want burgers for tea?" Dean asks his brother. "Yeah! That'll be good! Wednesday night burger takeout, like always." Sam runs into the house, eager to get started on his physics homework.

Dean drives over to Bobby's shop, blasting Metallica all the way there, trying to drown out his thoughts. Bobby hears him coming, and sticks his head out the door. "Dean, my boy! Turn that down, you'll go deaf!" He yells in laughter. When Dean kills the engine and steps out of the sleek black Impala, Bobby hugs him tightly and gives him an affectionate slap on the back. "How are you son, have seen you in a while."

Bobby leads him into the garage and pulls up a chair next to the car he's working on. Dean sinks into it and sips at Bobby's half empty coffee cup that's probably been sitting there all day. "Don't do that kid. You know where the coffee machine is!" He scolds Dean, grinning behind his dark beard.

Dean makes them each a fresh coffee and sits down, passing Bobby tools as he works underneath the blue 1990 Ford Mustang. They talk about everything from Sam's advanced classes, to Dean's upcoming birthday and Bobby's love life, or lack thereof. "Shit, is that the time? You better get going boy, Sammy will be getting hungry." Bobby cleans his hands off on the nearest rag. "Wednesday night burgers, you can come if you want?" Dean offers. "Naw. I gotta clean up here. There's leftover casserole in the fridge for me to eat."

Bobby puts his arm around Dean's shoulders. "Take care of yourselves, okay?" "I will" Dean nods. "You need hours? I've got six on Saturday and four on Sunday?" Bobby points to the roster. "Sure! It'll have to be the morning though, 'cause I have the weekend lunch shifts at the Roadhouse."

Relief instantly washes through Dean. More hours, means more pay, and more pay means Dean can buy Sammy the things he needs.

"You work too much Dean." Bobby's voice softened, eyes crinkling in both pride and sadness. He was proud that Dean had matured so fast; instantly altering his life to fit the needs of Sam's, doing everything in his power not to lose his brother in the foster-care system but also extremely sad about the circumstances; John leaving his children to fend for themselves so he could lead a life of alcoholism.

"Yeah but so do you." Dean pulls him in for a hug, and can't help feeling nostalgic as he drives away, for the days when he had two parents, not zero. Bobby was everything John should have been.

* * *

Dean navigates the grocery store in a haze, finding the cheapest essentials to fill the basket. His mind's stuck on John, questions filling his head. _Where is he? What's he doing? Why was he really calling Sam? _Dean's so focused that he doesn't notice the man in the ill-fitting trench coat coming up the aisle next to him, shopping trolley filled with an assortment of ingredients.

"Dean Winchester" Mr Novak says, stopping next to Dean, surprising him.

"Uh hey, Mr Novak." Dean stammers, lowering his basket in embarrassment of all the budget items it holds. "It's nice to see you in another environment besides school" The teacher smiles. "Yes it is." Dean replies awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, I have to go. It was nice talking to you." Dean says, before turning away.

"Just a minute Dean" Mr Novak calls, catching up with him. "Is your father here?" He asks innocently, looking down the aisle. Dean blinks in shock. "Um, no. He's busy." He answers evasively. "Well, I just wanted to give you a heads up, you are failing senior literature. And there will be a phone call home, I'm sorry Dean. Your father will need to sign off on some routine papers at school, just so that we know he is aware and it can go through the system smoothly." Mr Novak says.

He stares at Dean when he is silent.

Dean looks away, screaming on the inside. 'Dean?" The teacher looks down on his student, being only slightly taller than the younger boy, although Dean has him on size, being well built from his football training. Dean's pose is rigid; he won't meet the teacher's eyes. "Dean, what's going on?" Mr Novak unconsciously reaches out and touches his student's arm in concern.

Dean flinches and pulls his arm away. "I'm fine. I'll pass the message along to… Dad." He forces out the word he hasn't used in a year and a half, his tone nonchalant and suddenly very breezy. "Sorry but I really must be getting home. Dad wants these groceries." Dean plasters a smile on his face, worried he's over doing it. Mr Novak just stares at him for a moment, his head cocked slightly before nodding at Dean, one corner of his mouth pulled down in an expression Dean can't read.

Dean leaves the grocery store as quickly as possible, holding back his tears of anger until he climbs into the Impala and lets it loose. He hasn't cried this much in a very long time, always being strong in front of Sam. But he's so angry. And Dean breaks down when he's angry, particularly when he's angry at himself.

Why couldn't he just fly below the radar for the rest of the school year? He had to be failing a class, didn't he? Nothing could ever just go right for Dean. He always had to mess things up. Now the school would be calling, and what could he do? Tell them John was working? They would call back. Ask Bobby to pretend to be John? Bobby would be so disappointed in Dean failing his class. They'd take Sam away from him if they found out John wasn't around.

No. Dean _had_ to protect Sam. He always had to protect Sam. He wouldn't let them take him.

* * *

The dreaded phone call happened that weekend. Dean spent hours hunting around in the attic to find an answering machine tape, just for the occasion. It has to be at least three years old, with a tired yet relatively normal sounding John telling the caller that he and 'his boys are out at the moment and to leave a message and he'll get back to you.' Sam raises his eyebrows in surprise at the sudden change of recording but Dean just shakes his head. "It's a long story."

In the days leading up to the call, Dean is on his toes. The phone never rings; no one even knows the number anymore, aside from the school, but Dean shoots daggers at it anyway, glancing at it as he picks up around the house on his Friday night off, staring at it for long periods of time.

He fucked up. He knows that. Now he has to find a way to subtly avoid the consequences.

At school, Mr Novak watches him more carefully, his brow forever creased as he tries to work out the mystery that is Dean Winchester. Mr Novak had just settled in at Milton High eighteen months ago, when Dean dropped out of football, seemingly dropping out of everything all together, and the sensitive, watchful teacher noticed. Dean went from a loud, cocky, confident young man, to a reclusive, quiet, closed-off adult literally overnight. Castiel Novak had noted the change, and committed it to his memory. He cared for all his students, and the possible causes of this change in Dean worried him, he often found himself wondering what problems Dean was facing.

Castiel hated to be right about these things, but something was off when it came to Dean. He did the bare minimum in class, never contributed to discussions, never asked questions, and never wanted any assistance with the work he was very clearly struggling with. Castiel was beginning to think he was avoiding detection on purpose.

His phone call to the Winchester household went exactly as he suspected it would. It rang several times before going through to answer machine. A man's voice spoke. "You've reached the Winchester's, my boys and I are unavailable at the moment but leave a message and we'll get back to you." Castiel sighed and left the necessary message that he knew would be deleted as soon as someone heard it.

Dean had worked all Saturday, fitting in a few hours at Bobby's helping him work on the Mustang, and then working the lunch and dinner shifts at the Roadhouse, by the time he'd arrived home, he was exhausted. Sam was already in bed, having spent the day hanging out with his friends from school, studying and playing Xbox games. Dean wished he could buy Sam his own Xbox. The kid deserved it for getting continuous straight A's and the highest of praise from all his teachers. And yet, despite his best efforts, Dean's earnings were barely enough to scrape them through to the next week.

Dean shrugged off his jacket and was halfway to crashing on the couch when he saw the flashing light of the answering machine. He knew this was coming. He was just glad Sam hadn't been home today to pick up the phone. Sam still didn't know that Dean was in trouble. Dean pressed play and Mr Novak's voice floated out of the speaker. "Hi Mr Winchester, this is Castiel Novak, I'm Dean's literature teacher. I'd like to speak with you, please call me either at the school, my extension is 27 or on my mobile."

Dean copied down the number absentmindedly, still listening to the message. "It is rather urgent regarding Dean's welfare at school so please call so we can discuss the problem or arrange a time to meet. Thanks." The machine beeped at the message's end and Dean pressed delete firmly. He kept seeing Mr Novak's face in his mind and he couldn't work out why, until an hour later when he was laying on the couch watching anime, and he realised he knew his name. _Castiel. What a strange name_. Dean thought.

* * *

It's a constant cycle of Sam, work and sleep, in that order. Taking care of Sam always comes first, no matter what. It's always been Dean's number one rule. Since taking care of his younger brother requires money, work is vital, second only to Sammy. And as for the matter of sleep, Dean fits in random naps wherever he can manage them, working himself into the ground with exhaustion.

When his tired body finally wins and sleep takes over, Sam sneaks up to his older brother's bedroom to tuck him in. He knows Dean hates it when he does it, but it's one of the rare times he can really take care of Dean, not the other way round.

Dean wakes up, fairly well rested and in a better mood than usual, for a Monday anyway. He makes Sam's lunch and set its out on the table, next to his plate of still hot bacon and eggs.

"Bacon?!" Sam exclaimed as he jumped the last four stairs, bounding into the kitchen. Dean lent back against the countertop, sipping his black coffee, a grin hidden behind his mug. "Yep. Courtesy of Bobby, he dropped it by last night. He thought we could use a treat."

Dean loved seeing Sam so happy over such a simple thing as bacon. Sam wolfed it down in seconds. "Come on, we even might be early to school for a change." Dean pointed to Sam's lunch bag. "It's healthy, I promise."

Sam was bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm as they drove to school. School always excited him, the little nerd, but Dean suspected he was just happy that Dean had relaxed a little. He even let Sam pick a radio station to play (he picked the one with all the latest pop sensations) and suffered in silence at his choice the whole way to Milton High. The parking lot was more than half empty and Dean had no trouble finding a spot. Sam hugged him tightly, before racing off to find his friends. With extra time to kill, Dean headed round back to smoke.

He climbed onto his regular table and sat on the table top; his feet perched on the bench, leaning forward so he could light the cigarette from the carton Jo had given him, without interference from the wind. Dean often refused her charity, but given the recent events, he had taken the packet of cigarettes with an apologetic smile. He needed the outlet.

When Mr Novak climbs out of his car in the parking lot, Dean cringes, thinking of the grocery store, and the phone call. How long could he avoid this?

Castiel makes his way over to Dean, face apprehensive. "Dean?"

"Yes?"

"Did your father receive my message?" The teacher watches as Dean inhales on his cigarette to avoid his gaze.

"Yeah sorry, he's too busy." Dean shrugs.

"Dean, you do realise, if you fail this class, you do not graduate." Castiel says gently, round blue eyes sincere and kind.

"I'm sorry but John is far too busy for high school bullshit about signing some papers. Email them to him or something." Dean's reply is spat harshly into the cold air between them.

"Dean, is there anything you need to tell me?" Castiel ever so slightly cocks his head to the side, hoping Dean will take the chance to talk to him.

"Fucksakes, no, okay?!" Dean leaps off the table, throwing his finished cigarette to the ground. "I've got nothing to say, alright?!" Dean's voice cracks in anger and pain, trying to hide it from the teacher by screaming more profanities. "Who cares if I fail a fucking class? I don't need to fucking graduate. This school isn't teaching me shit."

He turns to walk away, but Castiel grabs his arm tightly, pulling him back.

"Dean, please. I care if you fail a class. I understand the teaching methods may not be suited to your learning style but you have to give school a chance. I can tutor you, help get your grades back up; it's no problem at all."

"Why? You're not getting your pay from following me around, sticking your nose into my life, trying to fix everything!" Dean's on the verge of tears, his teeth clenched, jaw locked.

"Contrary to popular belief, teachers actually care about their students. I'm sorry if you feel that I am overstepping the line as your teacher but I can't just let you sit in class and throw your potential away." Castiel lets go of Dean's arm gently and Dean puts distance between them. He doesn't leave however, so Castiel takes this as a good sign.

"Just leave me be. I'll sit in class and do the work, alright? Can't you just let it go?" Dean's visibly calmer, his body language less confrontational, yet he still holds the bitterness in his voice.

"Dean, where's your father?" Castiel asks quietly.

Dean flinches, his shoulders shaking. "Don't."

"I'm sorry." Castiel stares at the younger man, unsure of what to do. "Can't you just let me help you?" He says finally.

Dean raises his head slowly, startling green eyes wet with tears that have yet to spill down his cheeks.

"I… Okay. What do I need to do?" He asks. His voice is rough as he attempts to choke back the tears.

"Are you busy after school?" Castiel looks away, giving him time to wipe at his eyes, which Dean does hastily.

"No."

"Come to my classroom after final bell. I'll tutor you."

"Okay."

* * *

**A/N **What do you guys think so far? Thanks for being supportive.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings: **Language, bullying.

**Rating: **T/M

* * *

Dean gnawed over the tutoring plan all day. He didn't even know why he'd agreed to the stupid thing. He didn't have the time. Plain, and simple. There weren't enough hours in the day to fit the things he needed to do, and he couldn't afford to waste a few precious hours with Castiel, being taught the same stuff he couldn't pay attention to in class. He'd made up his mind. He would have to tell the teacher he couldn't do it.

Dean expertly maneuvered the crowded halls, thick with excited teens as the school day was coming to a close, dodging daggered glares from the football team as he passed them. His old team was leaned up against the lockers, red letterman jackets worn like badges of honour, making them exempt from consequences, detention and the continuous reports of bullying.

"Hey Winchester," Crowley spat as he pushed himself off the lockers to block Dean's path. Dean ignored the intrusion to his personal space, sidestepping his replacement on the football team. Crowley shoved his hand into Dean's chest, pushing him back. "I wanna talk to you."

"Wow, you finally learnt the art of civilised conversation, congrats Crowley, congrats." Dean chuckled confidently, his insides filling with unease, determined not to show it.

Crowley lent forward, still half a head shorter than Dean, glaring up at him. "Don't talk shit to me Winchester. I know all about you." He hissed.

"Right. Sure you do." Dean nodded. "Well I can't stay and chat, sorry boys." He stepped around Crowley, but Crowley caught him by the arm and shoved him hard into the lockers, face connecting with the thick metal. A loud crunching noise soon followed and Dean stumbled, still gripped by his attacker.

Students still milling the halls suddenly dispersed, no one wanted to get involved in the football team's extra-curricular activities.

Crowley pulled Dean into a choke-hold, lowering his face to Dean's. "Listen here, you faggot." He tightened his grip on Dean's neck. "The team went to the dumps when you left. What, weren't we good enough for you? Winchester." He spat. "Think you're royalty? Too good for everyone else? We're gonna make you pay."

Crowley was leaning over Dean, the two of them bent, hissing in his ear.

"Does this count as our first date?" Dean managed to choke out.

Although after Dean said this, he was shoved roughly back into the lockers, pushed to the ground and kicked so many times he lost count, it had been worth it, to see the look on Crowley's face.

Dean was just glad Sam had gone home with his friend that afternoon, so he didn't have to see Dean like this, or worse, that he didn't come looking for Dean when he was late. The same couldn't be said for Castiel Novak.

"Dean?" He heard his voice called from the end of the hallway and groaned. He'd managed to get himself standing, but walking was proving difficult as one of his legs couldn't hold up his weight.

As Castiel came closer, his face fell, large blue eyes bulging. Dean hadn't seen his reflection, but he guessed he was a sight for sore eyes. "Dean, what happened?" He demanded his voice low and shockingly gravelly.

Dean racked his brain for an excuse, but stayed silent when he came up short.

"Huh. So that's how you're going to play it." Castiel raised his eyebrows. "Well I'm guessing the dented locker doors and blood on the floor just a meter away is the scene of the crime."

Dean breathed in, and winced at the pain in his chest.

"Come on, let's get you to the hospital." Castiel wrapped his arm around Dean's waist, lifting him slightly to help him walk.

"No. No hospitals." Dean choked out, clutching at his chest, trying to stop the throbbing pain.

"Dean, you're hurt." Castiel argued.

"No hospitals. They ask too many questions, they'll want to talk to John. Please."

Castiel's breathing hitches. "Where is your father Dean?

"He left. It's just me and Sammy. Please." Dean begged, his eyes locking with Castiel's, reasoning. "Please." He says again.

Castiel swears to himself. "Fine. But I'm taking you home. You can't walk and you certainly can't drive like this. And you're going to have to let me assess your injuries." Castiel helps Dean into his car, buckling him in. Dean barely manages to give Castiel his address, breathing ragged, before he closes his eyes, giving in to the pain.

* * *

"Is this it?" Castiel asks, fifteen minutes later.

He's parked outside a small, two storied house, with dirty, peeling blue paint, a rusty fence and a broken gate. Dean nods, embarrassed.

The teacher helps him inside and strains his eyes. It's dim, the curtains still closed. He deposits Dean gently on the couch, opening a few, letting the natural light soak into the room.

Dean is silently thankful he and Sam cleaned the house a few nights ago, yet still cringing at Castiel seeing his house. It's a slum. And Castiel probably lives in a mansion.

Castiel looks around for a moment. "First aid kit?"

"Bathroom. It's upstairs." Dean tries to stand, Castiel rushing to his side. "No Dean, sit down." He says but Dean just hobbles forward. "I need to get upstairs anyway. Let's face it, I'm not gonna be able to move on my own any time soon and I really just need to sleep."

Once they've struggled up the flight of stairs, Castiel ducks into the bathroom while Dean stumbles into his room, sitting gingerly on his bed. When Castiel returns with the first aid kit, he looks around. It's small, with a double bed pushed to the side of the wall, washing littering the corner, a desk loaded with books, the walls covered in rock music posters.

Castiel sits beside him and raises a damp washcloth to Dean's face, gently scrubbing away the dried blood. He uses butterfly stitches on the gash on Dean's forehead, Dean wincing slightly at the pressure. "You're lucky you don't have a concussion." Castiel says in the awkward silence.

"Dean you're going to have to take off your shirt." The teacher says quietly.

Dean shrugs out of his Led Zeppelin tee, discarding it on the floor.

Castiel's eyes bulge at Dean's chest, so bruised it was almost purple, mouth gaping with a mixed expression. "Who did this to you?" He utters, eyes finding Dean's.

"Is anything broken?" Dean asks, ignoring Castiel's question.

Castiel presses his fingertips up and down Dean's chest, ribs and abdomen, apologising every time Dean winces in agony. "Nothings broken, just severely bruised, and extremely tender" He finally announces. "Your leg however, probably needs professional examination. I'm no doctor."

Dean lays down slowly, chest rising and falling with his slow breaths.

They are silent for a few minutes, until Castiel speaks. "Dean?" He asks. Dean cringes, knowing where this is going. "Yes?" He replies.

"You and your brother live alone?"

Dean nods, eyes closed.

"And your father is where?" The teacher asks hesitantly.

"I don't know." Dean says slowly, raising his arm to rub his bruised forehead.

"Here, take this pain medication. It should help." Castiel finally says, passing him two pills and a glass of water, watching as Dean lifts himself slightly, swallows them and lies back down. He doesn't ask any more questions about John, not wanting to push it.

"You know, I kind of expected a 'babes on bikes' calendar, maybe a few pages of the swimwear catalogue on your walls or something." Castiel says after a while, laughing to himself. "Not just AC/DC and Iron Maiden posters."

"I'm gay." Dean mumbles, feeling drowsy from the pills, his injuries already numbing.

"Oh." Castiel glances at Dean. "Is that why this happened?"

"No, not really. Just douchebags being douchebags"

"Why didn't you defend yourself?" Castiel asks, trying to understand what happened.

"I don't like to fight." Dean's words are almost incoherent. "You know? I don't… like violence. I've had… enough violence."

Castiel silently wonders whether John Winchester ever beat Dean. He doesn't want to ask. He doesn't want to scare Dean off. He turns to look at him, only to find the teenager half asleep.

He stands up to leave, and Dean reaches out to hold his hand. "Thanks Cas." He whispers slowly, squeezing Castiel's hand, before his grip slackens and he falls asleep, eyes closed, lips slightly parted.

Cas covers him with the blanket on the end of his bed. "You're welcome Dean."

When Dean wakes up a few hours later, Sam's on the edge of his bed, staring intently at Dean.

Dean jumps slightly, pulling the blankets up to cover his chest. "Hey Sammy"

"Dean, why is Mr Novak in our kitchen?" Sam asks, eyeing the gash on Dean's forehead.

"Is he still here?" Dean asks shocked, sitting up, pulling the blankets with him.

"What do you mean still? Why was he here in the first place? Does he know about Dad?!" Sam's voice rises in panic. "Sammy it's okay." Dean puts his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Cas was just helping me out."

"_Cas_?" Sam blinks. "Oh. I see."

"You see what?" Dean asks, standing slowly with his back to Sam, pulling a tee shirt over his head, trying to hide his pain.

"You and Mr Novak" Sam says plainly.

"What? No. No Sammy." Dean says hastily. "We are not together."

"Okay." Sam gets up and leaves Dean's room, his comment leaving Dean to think over the memories of what he'd admitted a few hours ago.

"Shit." Dean let out a low whistle. That was the first time he'd come out to anyone besides Sam and Jo. He'd told Sam because he was his brother. And Jo because she'd developed a huge crush on Dean in junior high, and he'd had to spill the beans.

But this? Castiel was a teacher. Dean had just willingly offered up his sexual orientation to his literature teacher. He cringed in shame.

He managed to climb the stairs slowly and stiffly, pain radiating from his solar plexus, where he'd taken a particularly brutal hit. Castiel looked up when Dean limped into the room. "I was just making coffee. How do you take yours?" He asked. "Black" Dean said, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. "Me too" Castiel slid the coffee in front of Dean, taking a seat next to him.

"You stayed." Dean said after sipping his coffee.

"I didn't want you to be alone." Castiel admitted.

When Dean didn't say anything else, Castiel stood. "I should go. It's getting late." He said, glancing at the clock.

"You can stay for a while, if you want." Dean grabbed Castiel's arm as he passed him. "It's only seven." The teacher looked from Dean to the clock.

"Okay." He finally said.

* * *

Dean and Castiel sit on the worn-out couch together, each at one end, a considerable amount of space between them. Sam glances at them suspiciously from the doorway. "Dean?"

Dean jumps in surprise, wincing, flexing his muscles slowly, and trying to hide his injuries. Although he and Castiel aren't doing anything other watching television, he still feels the irrational need to make excuses, or put more distance between them. "Yeah?" He asks guiltily.

"Can we have pizza for dinner?" Sam asks, still in the doorway. "Sure Sammy, you know where the number is, get whatever you want." Dean smiles at his younger brother. Sam just looks pointedly between Dean and Castiel before leaving the room.

When Sam is safely upstairs, Castiel turns to Dean. "Please tell me more about your situation, I'm very curious." He says. "What do you want to know?" Dean slowly turns his body towards Cas, lifting his legs up to rest on the couch.

"You work?" Cas says finally. Dean nods. "Yeah, I work about forty hours a week." Castiel's mouth pops open in shock. "Forty hours? Dean! How do you even manage to get a wink of sleep, you must be exhausted." He exclaims.

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Dean rubs his neck, unsure of what to say. "I um, I can't do tutoring. I just don't have the time."

"Well, how's your schedule?" Castiel inquires.

"I work at Bobby's on Tuesday evenings, and Saturday and Sunday mornings. Then I have shifts at the Roadhouse on Thursday and Friday evenings, and I work from 1pm to 10pm at the Roadhouse on the weekends." Dean goes tense, voice picking up speed. "I have school every weekday, and I have Sammy to take care of, and I still gotta fit in time for a whole bunch of other things that I keep putting off because I just don't have the money for them and it's just-"

"Dean, just breathe." Cas leans over, his hand on Dean's arm, squeezing gently. Dean relaxes instantly. "What about Mondays and Wednesdays? What do you do after school?" Cas asks, his voice gentle.

"Mondays I normally just chill around the house, tidying and helping Sammy with his homework, hell; sometimes I even do my own." Dean manages a weak smile. "Wednesdays I do the groceries and go out for a while, even for just a drive, just to get myself out of the house. And I sleep."

Cas was visibly shocked. "Dean, you can't live like that! You're so young! You need to live! Get out there, be a teen." Dean stiffened, feeling uncomfortable, although Castiel couldn't figure out why.

"I need to be there for Sammy. He needs a parent. He needs someone to look out for him."

"You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you?" Cas' face softens.

"He's my brother." Dean answers.

When Cas is silent, Dean sneaks a glance at him. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Oh yes." Castiel chuckles, somewhat darkly. "I have four brothers, and a sister. Their names are Michael, Luke, Raphael, Gabriel, and Anna. I'm only on speaking terms with Gabriel and Anna." He smiles sideways at Dean. "Everybody has family problems Dean."

Dean fidgets his hands, rubbing at a bruise beginning to show on his wrist. "You're gonna report us, aren't you?" He says, face downcast.

"Dean," Castiel starts slowly, trying to word his thoughts. "I have a lot of respect for you, and what you are doing with Sam, I do. I really do. And I care about you. But I have an obligation, as a teacher, to report your situation." He watches as Dean's face crumples. "I'm sorry."

"Cas, please. I need Sammy. You can't let them take him from me."

"You know that's not my intention at all. I just-"

"I'll do your stupid tutoring, okay? I'll do it. I'll study, I'll pass. I promise. Just please, please don't do this." Dean's voice is low, green eyes begging as he tries to pull himself off the couch, grimacing at the tenderness of his muscles.

"Dean, please, stop. You're going to hurt yourself." Castiel leans forward, trying to stop him.

"No!" Dean yells, pushing him away. "I'm already hurt! My Dad left me. My Mom is dead. I have nobody but Sammy, and they're gonna take him away. I'm trying my hardest. My goddamned hardest, to keep it together. You don't get to come in here, and figure me out, and then use it against me, okay?"

He's shaking with anger, tears brimming, ready to spill.

Castiel inches closer, placing his hand lightly on Dean's shoulder, comforting him. "I will not report it Dean."

"Thank you." Dean chokes out, sobs erupting from his body as he falls into Castiel's chest. The teacher instinctively draws him closer, rubbing small circles between Dean's shoulder blades, trying to will away to teenager's pain.

* * *

**A/N **Thanks for reviewing guys. Anything constructive is appreciated. I love all the support you guys have given me. I hope no one minds me coming back in to condense the chapters and put everything together. The chapters were too short and I didn't want to end up with a 50 chapter fic. I hope you can understand!


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings: **Mature themes

**Rating: **T/M

* * *

For Castiel, school resumes as normal. Dean is absent over the next week, recuperating from his injuries. The days drag on as the teacher silently studies his students, attempting to figure out who attacked Dean, and why. He doesn't believe Dean's reasoning behind the attack, feeling his sexuality must have come into it somewhere. Goodness knows how many times Castiel was bullied during his high school years for being openly gay, and Dean wasn't even out to the student body. The vicious nature of the attack worried him.

"Balthazar? May I speak to you about something?" Castiel asks, sitting down next to his co-worker in the near empty staff room.

The sarcastic history teacher looks up from the papers he is grading, thankful for the interruption. "Do you always talk like that Castiel?" Balthazar replies with an exasperated tone.

"Sorry. It's a habit. Can't shake the home roots." Castiel says, fidgeting with the papers on the table. "Balthazar, if you knew a student was being bullied, what would you do?"

Balthazar looks at him for a long moment, trying to figure him out. "I've endured the situation before. I reported it. Why?"

"What if you didn't know who was doing the bullying?"

"I would talk to the kid, normally they fess up. They're scared to get in trouble with the bully but the fear of being bullied again outweighs it."

"No. Fear isn't in this situation. He's not scared. I just can't work it out." Castiel frowns, trying to think.

"Well who is the kid? That would give me some idea about who could be bullying him." Balthazar says reasonably.

"I can't. How about you tell me the prime bullies you know of."

"Jeez Castiel, you're really making this hard aren't you." Balthazar laughs. "Duh. The Jocks. The football team, for sure. Top of the list. They will bully anyone and anything that looks at them the wrong way. Hell, half the teachers are frightened of them. If you're looking for suspects, they are number one."

Castiel thought back to his first few months as a teacher here. The way he'd seen the student body be treated by the football team. The jocks were Gods. They could do no wrong. The administration turned a blind eye to their behaviour, excited about the success of the team and the good press it brought to the school. He remembered Dean, the quarterback, never participating in any bullying, always stepping in when other members of the team tried to dominate the students. But then he quit, because John left, and the team became as dominant as ever, intimidating the student body into submission.

He hadn't witnessed any outright tension between Dean and the football team, but as he brewed it over in his mind, he could see no reason why they would still be friendly. The team had lost their championship titles since Dean's departure, along with their prestige and status. The star player left a gaping hole in the structure of the team to be filled by inadequate players. Oh there would be tension. Castiel thanked Balthazar and dashed to his car, quickly throwing his briefcase into the backseat. He lit up a cigarette and began to drive.

* * *

A few minutes later, he saw a familiarly tall figure walking in the direction he was heading. He pulled up next to the young teen.

"Hey Sam, want a ride?" He called out the open window. Sam jumped lightly, but after seeing it was Castiel, he climbed into the passenger seat and promptly curled his face up in disgust. "Ugh yuck Mr Novak, you're smoking?" Sam leaned as far away as he could. "Thanks for the ride and all, but gross."

Cas laughed heartily as he stubbed out his cigarette.

"Seriously, you're putting it out?" Sam asked, shocked. Castiel blinked back in confusion."Wasn't I supposed to?"

"Well it's just whenever I complain about something in Dean's car, he tells me he's the driver and shotgun has to shut his cake hole." Sam smiles at the memories.

"I didn't think Dean would smoke in the Impala." Castiel said out loud, his errant thought bursting through his lips.

"He doesn't. But it's just other things, like music." Sam glances sideways at the teacher while they drive, trying to figure out why he's helping Dean, and why it seems like he's known Dean for years.

"What were you doing walking back so late anyway? It's almost five. You shouldn't even be walking, it's a long distance." Castiel says after a period of silence. "I had math club and couldn't get a ride afterwards. Dean can't drive so I started walking."

Dean had told Sam he'd fallen down the stairs at school, not wanting to worry his younger brother. Castiel knew Sam wasn't stupid. Sam knew what had happened. He just let Dean keep his pride.

"Dean's on crutches now. When Bobby took him to the doctors, they said he'd torn something in his leg, that's why he was having trouble walking. But he sucks at using them, so don't make fun of him or he'll get mad. I learnt my lesson on Tuesday." Sam laughs as they pull up outside their house. Castiel smiles, feeling nostalgic because of the brother's relationship. He misses Gabriel, his jokester brother. He hasn't spoken to him in a while. Anna, on the other hand, checks in with him every week, lonely at college without her brothers.

"Dean?" Sam calls out once they're inside. "Upstairs" Dean calls back, voice loud and booming. Sam thanks the teacher for the ride and disappears into the kitchen, already starting on his homework.

Dean had been forced to take at least a week off work, unable to fix cars or serve drinks on crutches. Castiel had assured him it was necessary, but Dean just frowned, always thinking about the money.

Castiel taps on Dean's bedroom door. "Come in." He says gruffly. Dean is lying on his back on his bed, shirtless, holding the book Breakfast of Champions that Castiel lent him over his head, green eyes devouring the pages. Dean's injuries were still in the dark bruising stages, marring his sculpted chest, splattered across him like fine art. He lifted his head from the pillow when Cas entered, marking his page in the book. He was almost finished the novel.

"Wow, you're almost done! I gave that to you two days ago. Are you enjoying it so far?" Castiel asks.

Dean pulls himself into a sitting position, excited. "This Trout guy, he's freaking weird! Like what's up with all the porn? I mean, it's healthy, to like a bit of porn. But this guy? He's crazy about it. But 'to be the eyes and ears and conscience of the Creator of the Universe' that there is word porn. And it's far better than any dirty movie this guy watched in a dirty cinema. But then he starts talking about a meeting with the Creator and I'm lost."

"And who said tutoring would be boring?" Castiel laughs.

Dean smiles apologetically. "You're a great teacher. I just don't function well in the class environment. We figured that out pretty quick." The first day Castiel had tutored him, Dean had delved into the work with such enthusiasm that Castiel had to ask what he had done with the real Dean.

"Well this is your environment, so let's get into it." Castiel takes a seat at Dean's desk while Dean stiffly throws a shirt over himself, leaving it unbuttoned.

Castiel teaches Dean about writing conventions, other famous authors, and the symbolism. They discuss the characters, his first impressions, the language Kurt Vonnegut uses, and the style of writing. They argue over which character is best, Dean in favour of the complexity of Kilgore Trout, while Castiel was mesmerised by Dwayne Hoover's madness.

* * *

Their friendship formed easily, once Dean let his guard down, seeing Cas as a human, not a teacher. However, somewhere in the time they spent together, Cas' innocent concern for Dean's well-being turns into something else. He can't get the young man from his mind, savouring their literature lessons in class, and their private tutoring, which was several times a week since Dean had to have time off work. Castiel had to control himself from just popping in to see Dean, trying to cling to the very blurred boundaries he has as his teacher.

He distances himself slightly from the situation, in an attempt to stay professional. He is just helping Dean with his school work, that's all it is. He tells himself.

Dean notices the change in Castiel, seeing the man withdraw. Not one to beat around the bush, Dean decides to ask him.

"Cas, are you okay? You seem really weird now, like there's a problem. Have I done something wrong?" Dean says, two weeks later, as they work at the kitchen table, reaching out to touch the small of his back.

Castiel tells the truth. It doesn't feel right to lie to Dean.

"Dean. I am a very homosexual man, and the way you are touching me right now, makes it very hard for me to stay in control." He says simply, blue eyes meeting the familiar green.

Dean stares back, expression unreadable. He removes his hand slowly from Castiel's back, only to place it on the side of Cas' face. He gently itches closer. Castiel breathes in, allowing himself to enjoy the moment for a split second, before he puts his hand on Dean's chest, stopping him where he is.

"Dean, we can't."

That night, Dean lays awake in bed, his mind whirling with the possibilities of what would happen, if they could.

* * *

**A/N:** I edited my chapters (after they'd all been uploaded – sorry about that) and put them together so they're longer, this one is still quite short because I wanted to end it like this and I wasn't comfortable with adding in more plot details into a chapter people had already read. Sorry! Reviews are valued and appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I've been condensing the chapters together so there are less chapters but still lots of words but I've decided to leave this one as it is, so this is a shorter chapter. Thanks for sticking with me.

**Warnings**: Mature themes

**Rating: **T/M

* * *

It's a relief for Dean to get back to work. After nearly two weeks off, he begs Ellen to pick up some of his old work hours. His leg and chest still are still too frail to get back to working on cars at Bobby's, but Dean figures he can hobble behind the Roadhouse bar for a few hours a night. Surprisingly, Ellen agrees. His first night back, Dean can barely contain his excitement. He is relieved to finally get out of the house.

"Dean," Ellen says with a motherly smile, embracing him gently. "It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back" Dean replies honestly, leaning his crutches against the counter so he is free to move without their hindrance. Despite what Castiel had said Dean didn't believe they were helping him. He maneuvered himself around the bar for the night, serving drinks and joking with the regulars when they complained he was taking too long. Jo had also picked up a shift, and harassed him in between customers.

"So what did you say happened again?" She raised her eyebrows as she wiped and stacked glasses on the bar.

"Jo, I've told you about a million times. I fell down the stairs. I was rushing to get to my car and I lost my footing." Dean grumbled, his lie tasting bitter in his mouth.

"But see, I know you. And a fit ex-quarterback like you doesn't just fall down some stairs. You are the most physically balanced person I know."

"Jeez, are you saying I'm not mentally balanced? Jo, I am offended." Dean places his hand over his heart in mock-pain. Jo just pushes his shoulder lightly, causing him to stumble a few steps.

"See, I'm not balanced at all." He argues.

"Well this is after you supposedly 'fell down the stairs'. Of course you're not one hundred percent." Jo sighs, turning to him. "You know I'm just looking out for you right?"

"Ugh. You and Cas should form a club." Dean mutters.

"What was that? Who's Cas?" Jo asks confused.

Dean avoids her gaze for a moment too long, and her eyes pop in realisation. "Cas, as in Castiel? As in, Mr Novak? The literature teacher?"

"Yeah" Dead admits, trying to sound casual. "He was concerned why I hadn't been to school. I had to tell him. He's adamant about 'finding out who did this'"

"Dean, please stop lying to me." Jo says, voice soft, eyes filled with hurt.

"I'm sorry Jo." Dean pulls her in for a sideways hug. "I'm just not ready to tell the truth yet. I know that's shitty on my behalf, but I can't even accept it myself."

Jo nods in understanding, hugging him back until they're berated by Ellen for 'standing round being lovey-dovey instead of serving the customers'

At the end of Dean's shift, Cas crawls onto a bar stool, a half smile on his full lips.

"Mr Novak! What are you doing here?" Dean asks, his voice an octave too high to be considered casual. Castiel just laughs. "Bobby called Sam. He has to work late and can't drive you home. I've been called in as a backup taxi service."

"Can you wait out at your car? I'll just be a minute." Dean says as politely as he can manage, scared Jo will emerge from the back any second and spot the teacher.

Castiel nods with a knowing look in his ocean eyes as he slides off the stool and heads for the door.

"Jo?" Dean calls once he is gone. "My ride's here, I'll see you tomorrow!" Jo sticks her head out from the back, smiling and blowing him a kiss in reply.

Dean uses his crutches to get himself to Cas' car, wincing as he sits in the passenger seat and bends his legs out in the small space before him. His legs are almost numb from working on his feet for four hours. Cas notices and scolds him gently. "I told you that you weren't ready to go back to work."

"Shut up and drive Cas." Dean smiles, hands itching to change the radio station. Cas is listening to something classical, and Dean sighs, knowing he'd be breaking his own rules if he complained about Cas' music. As if he'd heard Dean's thoughts out loud, Cas switches to a modern station at the next set of lights. Not exactly what Dean liked, but it was better than orchestral music.

* * *

They were quiet as they drove, a comfortable silence between them filling the small car. Dean's mind was churning. When his literature grades were finally up – and they would go up, he'd already improved from an F to a C minus – he wouldn't get to spend extra time with Castiel. He would see him in class and that was it.

Dean didn't know what they were. Were they friends? It certainly wasn't just a student/teacher relationship anymore. Dean liked Cas. Hell, it was a lot more than like. The teacher took time out of his life to help him, to help Sammy. To make sure they were doing okay. To help Dean graduate. Dean couldn't imagine going back to how it was before. He was _happier_.

Castiel had burst into Dean's life, and Dean had let him stay. For once, he felt cared about. He felt like he had something to strive for, other than Sammy. Sammy was going places. He was a bright kid, very likely a genius. And Dean was, well, Dean. But Castiel had shown him he was worth more than he'd ever given himself credit for. He had something to get him out of bed in the morning. His future.

"Dean?" Cas says, voice low in questioning. Dean looks up, noticing they were outside his house. He didn't know how long they'd been sitting there.

"What are you thinking about?" Cas asks hesitantly.

Before Cas has a chance to process what he's doing, Dean leans across the space between them, hand lightly on Cas' chest, dipping his head until his soft full lips meet Castiel's in a firm kiss that quickly turns dangerously passionate. Cas laced his hands in Dean's cropped hair, tugging lightly, bringing the teen closer, as Dean's hand reached up to cup his cheek.

As quickly as Dean initiated the kiss, he ends it, throwing open his door and pulling himself away from Castiel. He all but runs from the car, dragging his crutches behind him. He bursts through the front door, startling Sam.

"Hey Sammy" Dean says, voice too high as he gasps for air.

"Dean?" Sam slowly gets up from the couch, concerned. "You okay?"

"Never better" Dean laughs breathlessly, stumbling to the window, peering out from behind the thick curtain. Cas still sits in his car, stunned. Dean watches him for a minute, until Sam appears behind him. "Why hasn't Mr Novak left yet?" He asks with a suspicious tone. "Maybe I forgot something. I'll go check." Dean says, too happily for Sam to believe a word of it. Yet he lets his older brother go, closing the door behind him. Sam watches as Dean stands on the porch, phone pressed to his ear, dialling. When Sam notices the teacher answering his phone, he steps away from the window, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"Dean." Castiel chokes into the phone.

"Are you gonna sit there all night, or would you like to come in?" Dean chuckles, watching Cas in his car, as Cas watches Dean on the porch.

"I-I don't think- I-" Cas mumbles, scrambling to find words, still reeling from their kiss.

"Another time, maybe?" Dean asks, still grinning, pleased to see he's affected Castiel.

"Maybe" Cas whispers.

"Goodnight Cas."

"Goodnight Dean."

* * *

"I'm overall pleased with the results of the last unit of work, but come on guys, I know you can all do better! I'm hoping with this novel study, you'll show your potential and really wow me in the exams!" Castiel was excited, handing each student a copy of Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions. His eyes skipped over Dean in his seat, now in the second row, fearful of lingering on him for too long. "Excuse me, sir?" Dean asked, raising his hand.

Castiel's stomach jolted as he composed himself enough to look over at his favourite student. "Yes, Dean?"

"I've already read this novel." Dean says, gesturing to the book on his desk. "Then I will assign you questions to work through as the rest of the class reads and becomes familiar with the book. Any questions?" Cas glanced around the class as he made his way back to his desk.

"I have a question. Since when has Winchester known how to read?" Crowley calls from the back, as cocky as ever, receiving high fives from his cronies.

Cas only has to glance at Dean's expression to put two and two together. "Detention, Crowley." He says, trying to control his anger. "I don't accept this kind of behaviour in my class."

"Can't. Got football practice" Crowley laughs carelessly.

"That's not my problem. You do the crime, you do the time. You won't be in high school forever, and as soon as you're out in the big scary world, no one's gonna accept 'football' and being a jock as an excuse for anything, especially not bullying. Detention," Cas replied firmly.

Crowley scowled and mumbled under his breath for the rest of the lesson. Dean however was ecstatic. When the bell went, and his students filed out, Dean appeared beside Castiel at his desk.

"That was so awesome, seeing you put Crowley in his place!" Dean grinned, but Castiel just stared at him darkly.

"Dean." He said in a low voice, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do not lie to me. He did it, didn't he? He hurt you. It was him."

"Cas…" Dean didn't know what to say. Cas was staring at him, the bluest eyes he had ever seen were piercing into his, filled with passionate emotions Dean couldn't even process, because really, this was the most inappropriate time and place to get hard.

"Don't you dare say it wasn't him. Because it was, wasn't it?"

Dean nods slowly, while Cas' breath hitches sharply, and he reaches across to grab Dean's hand, needing an anchor, something to keep him together.

"I'm going to kill him."

"Cas, don't. He's not worth it." Dean urged him, squeezing Castiel's hand, trying to calm him down.

"Dean. He hurt you."

"It's okay." Dean mumbles.

"No Dean. When will you see that it's not okay. It's not okay, for people like him, to hurt you, to treat you badly. It's not okay for your father to hurt you and treat you badly. You don't deserve it. You are the most loyal, hardworking, kindest person I have ever met, and you don't deserve the kind of shit those people give you. You deserve the world." Castiel pushes himself up from his desk, Dean jumping slightly, unsure of what he might do.

Dean pulls away slightly, looking around the empty classroom to the closed door, a warning.

Cas sighs deeply, before sitting back down, tugging Dean closer by his hand, fingertips brushing over Dean's wrist, causing his heart to leap.

"Sometimes I forget you're my student." Cas says, his voice low and wistful.

* * *

**A/N: **Let me know any thoughts or opinions and constructive criticism. I love you all.

A review from **Individual Narrative – **I love you, really, thanks for reviewing **– **said that Cas became willing very quickly… just putting it out there that he's always been attracted to Dean, he's just finding it very hard to stay away from him and remain professional.

**As of this chapter, Dean and Cas have been talking for three or four weeks.**

If there's anything I need to explain or something you don't understand, please tell me! Also if you find any spelling/grammatical mistakes, that would be helpful. My stories are edited by me, I don't have a beta so all mistakes are my own, sorry!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **To all my regular followers and committed readers (I love you guys!) I've edited the first couple chapters to put them together, as they were all quite short. I hope this doesn't inconvenience anyone. I recommend re-reading the chapters if you're confused. I'm now up to date and all chapters from now on will be longer and (hopefully) better. Thanks, you all rock.

**Warnings:** Mature themes, feelings (sorry)

**Ratings:** M

* * *

With Dean's reduced work hours, he had nothing to do in the afternoons other than study and read the books he'd been neglecting for months. Although he wouldn't admit it to anyone, it was refreshing, having time to himself. Sam helps him left, right, and center, even sitting Dean down and studying calculus with him for a few hours. It was the subject Dean's grades were the worst in. His teacher tested him less than Castiel ever did in literature, so it didn't show up in the system that he was failing, even though he knew he was. Sam thought it would be better to get on top of it now, rather than waiting until the school calling up to speak to John again. Dean agreed.

Castiel tried to distance himself again, busying himself with grading and studying of his own, visiting Anna at her university and going out to have coffee alone in a small jazz music cafe two towns over.

They even enlisted Sam's help, both making excuses for him to stay in the room while Cas was tutoring Dean, each feeling guilty about what they'd already let happen. Not another word passed between them about their attraction to each other, the knowledge that it could never really go anywhere was fresh in their minds. Not while Dean was still in school. Not while Castiel was his teacher.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up, seeing Sam hovering in the doorway, unsure of whether to enter. "Yeah, come in Sammy."

Sam moved to the each of Dean's bed, and sat down facing him. Dean put his book down and sat up straight, instantly worried and alert.

"Dean, I was wondering…" Sam started to say, his voice nervous.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, slightly panicked.

"Nothing. I just- never mind." He stood up to leave but Dean called after him.

"What Sam, what's the matter?"

"You and Mr Novak, what's going on?" Sam asked finally, turning back to face Dean, brown eyes meeting the green steadily.

"I don't know." Dean answered honestly, rubbing his ribcage absentmindedly. The bruising had faded yet he still felt tender pain.

"Dean. He's your teacher."

"I know that Sam. You think that I don't know that? That every time I walk into school, if I see him, I have to pretend he's not important to me. You think that I don't think about that all the time?"

"He could get fired. He's putting a lot on the line for you." Sam points out gently, realising how much Dean cares.

"Why do you think he hasn't been around as much? I don't want him to ruin his career. I don't even know what we are." Dean clasps his hands tightly together, and then releases them, trying to distract himself from the knot in his chest and the ball of anxiety caught in his throat.

"Have you had sex with him?"

"Oh my god, Sam. Jesus. No."

"But you want to, right?"

"I'm not talking to you anymore, get out of my room." Dean hisses, cheeks flushing bright red.

"Dean, you need to talk to him." Sam urges, ignoring Dean's embarrassment.

"Sammy. I don't want to be lectured about my non-existent love life from my baby brother, okay? I don't really ever want to hear those last questions come out of your mouth again, for as long as I live."

"Okay, I won't say anything else. But I really think you should talk." Sam pats Dean's leg and leaves his room quietly. Dean shifts awkwardly in the aftermath of the conversation, feeling uncomfortable like he'd just been given a 'birds and the bees' pep talk.

It takes all of three seconds, before Dean decides Sam is right, and pulls out his phone.

"Cas? It's Dean. I think we have some things we need to talk about. Can you come around?"

* * *

"First of all. I'm sorry." Dean sits across from Castiel at the picnic table out the back of the house, set among wild grass and abandoned projects John had started and given up on. "I shouldn't have put you in that position by kissing you. I shouldn't have done that. And I'm sorry."

Castiel looked up at him, hands clasped together on the table top, eyes focused solely on Dean.

"Second of all, I am so grateful of everything you've done for me. But I feel like I'm pushing your boundaries, and overstepping the line, and you're my teacher, and I shouldn't do that."

Cas tries to interrupt but Dean holds up his hand. "Let me get this out." He whispers, voice dropping, suddenly nervous beyond belief.

"I like you Cas. I like you a lot. And I have, ever since you were persistent, trying to figure me out, and show me what I was capable of. And I'm so fucking attracted to everything about you. But you're still my teacher, and even though I don't see you that way, the rest of the world will if… things… continue the way they are…" Dean finishes awkwardly, not wanting to get ahead of himself and say 'if we were dating.'

Hell, Dean had kissed Cas, not the other way around. He didn't even know if Cas liked him that way. Dean would be surprised if he didn't, not because he was arrogant and thought the sun shined out of his own arse, but because of the way they gravitated to each other, the physical energy in the room when they made eye contact. The little things no one else noticed. The fierce concern Cas held for him, it was all adding up to Dean, weighing down on him like a planet of unbearable attraction. He couldn't stand being this close to him and not touch him.

Castiel stared into Dean's fierce green eyes and realised what he'd been struggling with since they had kissed. This was not a school boy's crush. Dean was an adult in every other aspect, aside from his age. Castiel didn't know exactly how old he was. He'd asked him once, which resulted in a tense moment where Dean had stayed silent, then thrown a defensive "how old are you?" back at Cas. It had been obvious that he was not yet eighteen. Castiel felt uncomfortable revealing his own age, realising the gap between them. Not that it mattered to him, how old Dean was. He was just… afraid. Afraid of it seeming like he was taking advantage of his student, of his job. Afraid of what people what might think, if they saw them together. Oh, Castiel was afraid.

But as he looked at Dean, with his cropped brown hair, sculpted cheekbones, sharp jaw and full pink lips, he couldn't help feeling, free. Like everything was up in the air and he couldn't control what was happening, he could only watch as the pieces fell into place, and accept it.

To Castiel, it sounding like Dean was breaking up with him. Not that they were together, but he imagined that if they were together, this is what Dean would be saying. And even though he had distanced himself from the younger man, he didn't want to lose him. Not this soon. Not before they'd had a chance.

"Dean." Castiel reached for his hand, hesitating. "I… Can I take you out, on a date?" He says suddenly, making up his mind once and for all. Fuck the pieces. He doesn't want to waste time waiting for fate. Maybe this is fate. Maybe you have to make your own fate.

"Like a date, date?" Dean asks, taken aback. This is the most forward Castiel has ever been.

"Yes. Dinner, tomorrow night, at 7 o clock."

"Cas, what about your job? If anyone sees us… I don't want you risking your career for me."

"Dean, I'm leaving Milton High."

"What, why?" Dean exclaims.

"Relax. I have a two year contract with the high school. After these exams, my contract is up. The university has offered I take up a lecturing position there, in the English department. I have accepted." Cas smiles at the confusion on Dean's face.

"Because of me?" He asks quietly.

"No, the offer was made after my first year. I have always planned to lecture at the college, and I had accepted straight away. I'm very glad I am leaving, because of you." Castiel squeezes Dean's hand. "I've never met anyone like you before, Dean. I want to see where this takes us. I want to be able to get to know you without the restrictions of being your teacher, and you being my student."

"What about school? Graduation's not for another couple of months"

"I've made a request for you to be moved into Balthazar - sorry Mr Roché's literature class for the remainder of the year."

"When did you do that?" Dean asks, suspiciously, voice filled with hurt.

"A few days ago. It's better for you to be taught by someone else for the time being. I will still tutor you, but I am far too attracted to you to have you sit in my class each day and not be able to touch you, or talk to you how I normally do, because by the school's standards, it is immoral and inappropriate."

"Do you think it's immoral and inappropriate?" Dean's voice is low, apprehensive and nervous at what Castiel might say.

"Immoral? No, not for my own personal morals. I consider you a friend. There's nothing wrong with our relationship as two individuals. As for inappropriate, since we've spent time together, how have your grades been?" Castiel asks to make a point.

"My attendance and concentration in all my classes is way better, so are my grades."

"Exactly. Not once have I given you a grade you didn't deserve, and it appears my tutoring is helping across the board for your other subjects, so why should it be inappropriate? My personal feelings are not affecting my professional actions."

"Cas, are you sure about this?" Dean looks into his endlessly blue eyes, trying to read him.

"Dean, do you want to have dinner with me?" Castiel repeats.

"Yes."

"Then I am one-hundred and twenty-two percent sure about you."

* * *

Bobby visited his boys that night, bringing a six-pack of beers for him and Dean to share as they watched football together. Sam lounged on the floor, studying again, while Bobby lent back in the recliner with his feet up, a vision of comfort. Dean was sitting on the couch with his legs stiffly up on the coffee table, his beer cradled in his palms. The only person paying any attention to the game was Bobby.

"Why aren't you watching boy?" Bobby says gruffly, looking over at Dean with his forehead burrowed. Dean snapped his head up, feeling guilty. "Sorry Bobby. I just don't really feel like football right now."

"What's going on?" Bobby asks, concerned.

Sam shoots Dean a look, questioning, if Dean will open up about Cas.

Dean opens his mouth, and then closes it. He chickens out.

"Nothing, I'm just tired. You can finish my beer if you want. I might head up to bed." Dean pulls himself up off the couch and stands with his weight on his left leg for a moment, before trying to distribute his weight evenly between both his legs. His right leg still strains, forcing Dean to limp if he wants to get anywhere, without his crutches.

"What are you doing, you idjit? Bobby shakes his head. "Sit down Dean. Sam, give us a minute, would ya?"

Sam shrugs and leaves the room, Dean knowing he's way too honest to stand behind the door and listen. Dean sits back down and turns towards Bobby, trying to figure out what he wants to talk to him about.

"Dean, I talked to your father." He says simply.

"What?" Dean splutters, anger welling in his chest.

"Hang on boy, don't get ahead of yourself. He's called me a few times recently, begging to talk to you. He says you've got him blocked, and Sam stopped answering his calls."

"Yeah, and for good reason! That bastard upped and left us! He's no father. He'd get drunk off his face and push me around for the simple reason of there was nothing better to do. I don't need that piece of shit back in my life, and neither does Sammy." Dean fists clench and unclench slowly as he tries to keep his rage in control.

"Dean, he's never gonna get his drinking in check without support. He needs you boys to help him." Bobby can already sense Dean won't let up.

"No way. No chance in hell. I'm eighteen next week, and I'm applying to be Sam's legal guardian." Dean tells him.

Bobby's mouth pops open in shock, his eyes bulging at Dean's announcement. "Dean, my boy, you're so young. Too young to have to worry about Sam."

"Well I've looked after him since he was a baby, and I'm not stopping now. I mean it, John is nothing to me." Dean's voice turns bitter as he recalls a painful memory.

"You know, I used to pray at night that he'd come home safe, and be nice to us, and pass out quietly. I always liked him better when he was asleep. And then I started praying he wouldn't come home at all, and the police would call in, and tell us he was dead. And then they'd take us away to someone who actually gave a shit."

Bobby gasps quietly, staring at Dean, never having heard this from him before. "Dean." He chokes, not knowing what else to say to him.

"I was his punching bag for way too long. He's not coming back into our lives. He isn't. I won't have it." Dean replies.

"But you can't just become Sam's guardian. They need John's signatures, and permission, and it's a big commitment Dean. You're eighteen. You can't be a parent to that kid."

"It's no different from me taking care of him now."

"I'm sorry." Bobby says suddenly.

"What for?" Dean looks at him in confusion.

"For not taking you away from him. For not taking you in when he left. I wanted to, believe me. But I lost my wife, and I was grieving, and I was in no shape to look after you boys. So I left you here alone, and I'm so sorry. I should have helped more, with Sam, with you. You have a life Dean, and you need to live it." A tear rolls down Bobby's cheek, but he doesn't acknowledge it, nor does Dean. Dean just stares at him for the longest time, trying to work it all out.

"I have something for you." Bobby says after the long period of silence, their argument apparently over. He digs in his pocket and retrieves an envelope. He hands it to Dean, and Dean feels the weight of it in his palm.

He opens it slowly, pulling out two folded pieces of paper. One paper is a deed to a house. Not just any house, but this house. The other, is a bank statement for an account with thirty thousand dollars in it. Dean looks at Bobby blankly. "What's this?"

"Early birthday present" Bobby sips his beer, watching Dean.

"I own this house?" Dean asks, shocked.

"John signed the deeds over to me after your mother passed on. He wanted to live in the place, but not own it. I never quite understood his reasoning. Nonetheless, you are eighteen soon, and this house has always been yours." Bobby smiles warmly. "And this?" Dean holds up the second piece of paper, the bank statement.

"It's your trust fund. Mary set it up, when you were a baby. Sam has one too. You're to receive it when you turn eighteen. After she died, I continued putting money in them, and managed to convince your dad that you and Sam should have your share of Mary's inheritance, so that's in there too."

Dean's breathing hitches as silent tears fall down his face. Bobby's out of his seat in seconds, arms wrapping around Dean in a tight embrace. "Thank you Bobby." Dean chokes out against his father-figure's shoulder. Bobby just pats him on the back gently, pulling him closer, holding him that little bit tighter, because if anyone needs it, it's Dean.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry about the changes, it had to be done. If you get lost, re-read the other chapters so you understand. My regular reviewers, you won't be able to review this chapter, as it replaced an earlier one, so it still has those reviews on it. If you'd like to you can message me with any reviews or remember what you thought about this one so you can include it on the next chapter's review. Thanks.

Chapter 1 = chapters 1 and 2 put together.  
Chapter 2 = chapters 3 and 4 put together.  
Chapter 3 = chapter 5 and a little of chapter 6 put together.  
Chapter 4 = chapter 6.  
Chapter 5 = chapter 7  
Chapter 6 = chapter 8 – now this chapter so you're up to date!


	7. Disclamier

SORRY HAVE TO LEAVE THIS BLANK, NEW CHAPTER UP SOON

I LOVE YOU

RE-READ ALL THE CHAPTERS BECAUSE I'VE PUT THEM TOGETHER, HERE'S A LITTLE GUIDE FOR YOU

Chapter 1 = chapters 1 and 2 put together.  
Chapter 2 = chapters 3 and 4 put together.  
Chapter 3 = chapter 5 and a little of chapter 6 put together.  
Chapter 4 = chapter 6.  
Chapter 5 = chapter 7  
Chapter 6 = chapter 8 – up to date!

PLEASE DON'T HATE ME, I HAD TO DO THIS.

MESSAGE ME IF YOU HAVE ANY PROBLEMS.

also, all my regular reviewers, please tell me if you're unable to review the new chapters. since you reviewed the chapters that i deleted and replaced with the new chapter, i'm worried that you won't be able to review the new chapter 6 :(


	8. Chapter 7

**Warnings:** None. Fluffiness I guess.

**Rating:** T

* * *

Dean spent all afternoon worrying about what to wear, and burst into Sam's room wearing a different outfit so often, that Sam transferred his school books to Dean's bed so he could study and supervise Dean's outfit choice at the same time. "Isn't this a little gay?" Sam asked.

"Sammy, I'm going on a date with a male. How much more gay can it get?" Dean replied, turning around to show Sam his latest outfit but stopped when he saw the look on Sam's face. "Sammy no!" He exclaimed, interrupting the crude sentence that was about to erupt with sarcasm from his little brother's mouth. "Jesus Sammy, you're my fifteen year old brother, I didn't really want to hear that" Dean frowned. "I didn't say anything!" Sam laughed with an innocent expression. Too innocent. "Yeah but you were thinking it."

Sam just rolled his eyes, giving Dean his best 'bitch face.'

"I meant all the clothes and the numerous 'how do I look' questions. It is rather gay."

"Shut up, Sammy, I _am_ gay." Dean laughs. "Okay, what do you think of this?" He turned away from the mirror to show Sam his outfit. He wore a pair of dark-washed straight leg jeans and a light khaki green shirt buttoned up over a white tee shirt. Sam looked at him for a long moment before unbuttoning the top two buttons and pulling on the sleeves of his shirt. "Roll them up, it looks more casual."

"I don't know where he's taking me. It could be a nice restaurant." Dean argues.

"I doubt it, but in that case, you can roll them down." Sam points out.

"Shouldn't I start with them down, just in case?"

"Dean, you're driving me crazy. Dress however you want, Cas really won't care. Just dress comfortably." Sam sighed, going back to studying. He'd picked up the nickname from Dean and now he couldn't stop, so he avoided talking to Castiel in school at all costs. He didn't want to ruin it for them. Dean was happy, and they weren't even together yet – or so he said. Sam could only imagine what he'd be like if they did get together. He'd never seen Dean this relaxed before, in well, ever.

Dean eventually decided to wear it with the sleeves rolled up, throwing his black combat boots on to match. Just before his nerves could fully set in, the doorbell rang.

"Shit." Dean exclaimed, grabbing his brown leather jacket off the edge of his bed.

"Have fun." Sam winked as Dean sprinted downstairs.

"Bitch" Dean yelled behind him. "Jerk" Sam called back, smiling.

Dean was slightly breathless as he opened the front door, his hair still standing up straight from when he'd run his hands through it. Castiel welcomed the sight.

"Hello" He mused in a low voice, leaning to kiss Dean lightly on the cheek. If Dean blushed, Castiel didn't say anything. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah sure" Dean pulled the door closed behind him and tugged on his leather jacket.

Castiel walked ahead of him to open Dean's door. He was wearing a grey shirt tucked into dark tight jeans with a leather belt and a dark jacket. He looks casual but dressed up and Dean glances down, wondering if he should have changed. Cas opens Dean's door with a smile. "You look great." He says knowingly, reading what Dean is thinking by his expression. "Thank you. Where are we going tonight?" Dean asks once inside the car. "You'll see." Castiel replies slyly, refusing to give up any secrets. They drive for almost an hour, conversation flying as they pass through small towns and into Overland Park. Cas parks on one of the main streets and again opens Dean's car door. When Dean gets out, he sees a Jazz house across the road. "We're going to a jazz club?" He asks with his eyebrows raised.

"Don't knock it till you try it." Cas smiles, elbowing Dean in the side before putting his arm around his waist. "Um Cas, we're in public." Dean throws him a worried glance.

"It's okay, no one here even knows us. And plus, you didn't bring your crutches, again, and I'm worried if I don't help you, you might fall onto the road and die."

"Are you sure it's not just an excuse to touch me?" Dean grins.

"Yeah, that too" Cas laughs and pulls Dean across the road and into the Kansas City Blues & Jazz Juke House where he's been frequenting for years.

Inside the place had a nice warm atmosphere, with plush tables and couches and a live jazz band playing. It was friendly and relaxed, exactly the place for the two of them. "Table for two." Cas tells the hostess. She smiles and leads them to a corner table, not glancing twice at the two males so obviously on a date. A short while later, the waitress comes over to take their orders.

"Castiel, baby, how you doin'" She smiles, a southern accent on her lips as she approaches. Cas grins back and kisses her hand. "I'm great, Bela, how are you?" "Fine, busy, you know. Paying the bills" She places her hand on her hip and cocks her head, eyes falling on Dean. "And who is this?"

"This is Dean." Castiel says somewhat proudly to her. He then turns to Dean. "Bela's been serving me for many years here. She's the best waitress they have." "Yeah, aside from your darling Anna. She's tough competition. Boy, that girlie can do her job well." Bela smiles brightly at Dean before sticking out her hand. He shakes it firmly and tries to return her welcoming attitude.

"Castiel, of all the years you've been coming here, not once have you brought a date." She says, turning back to Castiel. He shrugs and smiles at Dean. "It's a special place and I had it reserved for someone special." Bela makes a mock-disgusted face and then smiles between them. "What would you like to order?"

"Dean?" Cas gestures to the menu, letting him order first. Dean scrambles to pick something, choosing Chicken Alfredo Pasta. "And Grilled Chicken Breast with fries and salad" Castiel adds for himself. She smiles before ducking away and Dean leans back into the booth, watching Cas.

"What?" Cas asks with a smile.

"I can picture you here, spending your time on the weekends, having a few drinks at the bar." Dean tells him. "Funny, because that's what I do. My sister works here and I like to spend time with her. She's quite lonely. She goes to Barker University just here in town." Cas shows him a picture on his phone, of a fierce girl with a huge smile and shocking red hair. They talk about his family until their food arrives, about his sister's bubbly personality and Gabriel's pranks. He doesn't mention his other siblings, and Dean doesn't ask.

The food is delicious and the band is ridiculously good. Dean tells Cas this.

"I knew you would like it. There's more to life than Rock" Cas grins, seeing Dean's expression.

"Nuh-uh" Dean says defiantly. "Classic Rock is where it's at."

Cas leans over and pulls on Dean's hand. "Dance with me."

They dance up near the band, close together and touching. No one in the restaurant seems to mind the two of them. The band sees them and they all grin, moving into a slow song. Dean and Cas fight for dominance on who gets to lead and end up bursting into laughter, gently shoving each other until Cas bows, letting Dean take the lead as they slow dance. Cas rests his face against Dean's firm shoulder, his light stubble grazing Dean's neck filling Dean with emotions he wouldn't be able to put into words, even if he tried.

It's perfect.

* * *

They smoke on the way home, sharing stories and flicking between radio stations, singing along to the songs they both know as the sun sets on the horizon.

"Dean, you have a wonderful voice." Castiel says in surprise after Dean sings a full song as he stares out the window, forgetting Castiel is there and losing his inhibitions.

"What? Oh thank you." Dean shrugs awkwardly, not knowing how to take the compliment. "I'm serious, you can really sing." Cas tells him. "Where did you learn to sing like that?"

"My mom sang to me when I was a baby. I loved it. When she died, I sang to Sam." Dean says simply.

"I'm sorry about your mother."

"It's okay, it was so long ago. I was four."

"How did she die?" Castiel asks quietly, apprehensive and wary, giving Dean the option of flagging the question. "Car accident. Drunk driver." Dean says, lighting another cigarette.

Castiel doesn't ask, and Dean doesn't say, but he knows it must have been Dean's father. Castiel shudders, trying to wrap his head around the troubles Dean has been through. Cas' home life wasn't that great, but he never truly suffered. Not like Dean has.

"I don't really sing anymore." Dean says, pulling Cas out of his thoughts.

"Why not? Your voice is beautiful." Cas replies, blushing slightly.

"I don't know. Dad hated it. He was always convinced singing was gay. And he couldn't have a son who was gay."

"Does he know you're gay?" Cas asks, looking over at Dean, watching as the sunlight streaming through the open window hits Dean's smooth tan skin.

"I never said, and he never asked. But I think he always knew. That's why he tried so hard, to get me into football and mechanics and rough 'boys things'." Dean catches Cas' eye and smiles. "I think the football just made me gayer, in honesty. I mean a locker room full of naked guys? I'm definitely gay."

Dean's humour lightens the mood and Cas reaches over, grabbing Dean's hand. For the rest of the way home, their hands are interlocked between them, resting over the gearbox, both changing the gears with their clasped hands.

Cas walks Dean to his door and Dean pulls him close until their foreheads are touching, green eyes boring into blue. "I had fun tonight."

Cas doesn't reply with words, rather angling his face slightly, until his lips meet Dean's in a soft kiss, his arms slipping around Dean's waist. Dean responds whole-heartedly, his hands reaching up to pull lightly on Cas' already messy dark locks, body pressing against Castiel's, deepening their kiss. His tongue trails along Cas' bottom lip, requesting permission. Castiel's lips part without hesitation and Dean practically melts with pleasure as his tongue explores Castiel's warm mouth. He tastes cigarettes and something sweet. It's heavenly.

Cas' hands grip Dean's hips, printing half-moons into his sides. They eventually break for air, foreheads pressed together as they both struggle to breathe. Dean chuckles and kisses Castiel's lips lightly once more. "I would invite you in, but this is our first date, and I don't think either of us are really first date people, are we?"

Castiel understands what he means and smiles, a small laugh bubbling from his raw lips. "I suppose not."

"I'll see you on Monday." Dean caresses his cheek before disappearing inside.

Castiel regains control of his breathing and drives himself home to his studio-apartment, collapsing on his bed as soon as he kicks off his shoes.

He'd always been intrigued by Dean, but when he offered to tutor him, he had no intention of pursing anything romantic with his student. He sure as hell didn't mean to fall for him. But Castiel already had. In the short five or so weeks that Cas had spent time with Dean, he'd let himself get wrapped up in him. He was attached, and he knew it was bad for his career, but he didn't care. Dean was something else.

He was kind and caring, and he loved his brother more than anything else in the world. And he worked hard, slaving away for Sam and now for himself. He was damaged, oh he was hurt. And Cas hadn't even scraped the surface of that hurt. But he wanted to help him. Show him his own scars and wounds, and tell him it would be okay. Dean was modest, and quite self-loathing Cas had noticed, making him realise they were more similar than either of them had guessed. He bit his lip sometimes as he looked at Castiel, and Cas knew he wanted to kiss him, but was restraining himself, because he didn't want to put the teacher in a position where he could lose his job. But Cas wanted nothing more than for Dean to kiss him, long and hard with enough passion to set them on fire. He wanted Dean. But somewhere deep inside him, he knew it was more than want and lust and passion, and that scared him more than anything else he'd ever experienced in his life.

* * *

It was strange for Dean, to have these feelings for Cas, and not be able to act on them during school hours. It was easier now, that he was in Mr Roché's literature class, and Dean was glad that Cas had requested the change, but he missed that hour each day, where he could stare at him and no one thought it was peculiar because he was learning. Mr Roché or Balthazar as Cas had called him, was a brilliant teacher. He was blond and British and the most sarcastic teacher Dean had ever had, but he taught them well and he took no shit from his students. After class, he called Dean to his desk.

"Winchester, is it?" He asked, looking up from the papers he had strewn over his desk.

"Yes sir, Dean."

"Well Dean, Mr Novak requested a change in class for you, how are you finding my teaching?"

"It's brilliant, thank you." Dean told him honestly. "I thought you taught history."

"I do. I double majored and the school wants to skimp on teaching resources so I'm taking a few literature classes too." Balthazar paused, staring at Dean for a moment too long. "And you don't mind that the rest of the class is studying a different book?" He asked him curiously.

"Not at all. I know this book very well. C- um, Mr Novak helped me with it. I'll be fine." Dean caught himself just in time, about to say Castiel's name to his co-worker.

"And those crutches you were sporting for a while there, that couldn't have been the bullying incident Mr Novak was talking about?" Balthazar decided to press his luck with his new student, curious as to why he now had him in his class, and why Castiel seemed so attached to the boy.

Dean shook his head nervously. "I fell."

"Very well. Don't be late to your next class. I hope your injuries are getting better." Balthazar tells him to leave with a small gesture of his hand and returns to his papers.

Dean has to control himself from running straight into Cas' classroom across the hall to tell him that Mr Roché is suspicious of them. Instead, he diligently arrived on time for his next class – calculus and got stuck into the work. It was true when Cas said his work seemed better in all his classes. It was. His other teachers were surprised at the effort Dean was now putting into his work, and his attendance record was now almost perfect, rivalling that of Sam's, who never skipped any classes.

* * *

Castiel's next class was an accelerate physics class. He was surprised to see Sam Winchester's face among the students studying physics at a junior level, and he smiled slightly at Sam as he introduced himself. "I'm Mr Novak, your substitute. The instructions your teacher left was you're to be researching in the library with your partners, so let's head over there now. I'm no physics teacher, I teach literature but if you need help, I'm sure I can assist or find someone who can."

The students settled into the school's huge library almost immediately, getting straight to work. As he circulated, checking they were on task, he saw Sam, sitting in the corner reading a book.

"Sam, you're supposed to be doing your work." Cas says, trying his best to sound like a teacher.

"I've done it already. My partner Jess is away anyway and all we need to do is write a conclusion. It's not due for another two weeks, so I think we're good." Sam laughs. He picked this secluded table for a reason. Nobody is within earshot, so he decides it's now or never.

"Cas, are you and Dean together?" He asks, his tone light and friendly.

Castiel stills for a moment, and sits down across from Sam.

"We went on a date? I'm sure he told you that." Cas says.

"I know, but I wanted to know if you guys are actually together."

"No we are not." Castiel wonders where this is going. Is he about to get the talk from Dean's fifteen year old brother?

"No not ever, or just no, not yet?" Sam asks cryptically.

"Not yet?" Cas answers in confusion. "I really like Dean." He assures Sam.

"Good, because I like you. And we both know Dean likes you. And I want you to be together. I've never seen Dean this happy before. And you're good for him." Sam grins.

"You're not bothered that I'm his teacher? Or that I'm older?" Cas asks in surprise.

"No. You're not his teacher anymore, and you're not that much older, are you?"

Cas tells him his age, and Sam laughs. "And here was me, thinking you were thirty, because Dean refused to tell me your age."

"Dean doesn't know how old I am." Cas admits. "How old is Dean again?" He tries to sneak the question in, but Sam's eyes bulge.

"Oh my god. You guys don't even know how old you are? You really need to talk." Sam jokes.

"Your brother won't tell me. I think he thinks I won't like it."

"How about you come over this Friday night? Dean has the night off work. We can get pizza and watch movies and maybe he'll tell you then."

Cas stares at Sam for a moment, with his big puppy-dog brown eyes and long brown hair and suspicious smile, and Castiel wonders what he is planning.

"Yeah, okay." Castiel agrees warily. Sam seems way too excited for just a movie pizza night. What has Cas gotten himself into?

Sam on the other hand, is exploding with happiness at his plan.

Dean sits in his calculus class, unaware of his brother and Castiel's exchange.

* * *

**A/N: **Hope you liked it! If you'd like to review, constructive reviews would be great. Hope everyone's having a good week. I'm thinking of changing the name of this fic, suggestions?


	9. Chapter 8

**Warnings: **None, just fluffiness and a profanity or two.

**Rating**: K

* * *

All week, Sam had been bouncing off the walls with uncontained excitement, and Dean couldn't work out why. He'd tried to squeeze the information from his little brother, but Sam had refused, holding this secret tight to his chest. After a few days, Dean gave up, slightly hurt. He didn't keep anything from Sam. Well, apart from the incident with Crowley, but he didn't want to scare Sammy, and he definitely did not want him to worry.

Dean was on edge, feeling Sam's constantly watchful eye, following him everywhere. As he made them breakfast, while he worked on his car, while he cleaned the house, when he was leaving the house for work, Sam was always there, filled with giddy excitement, planning.

Friday afternoon arrived, Dean feeling dejected and bored. Ellen had insisted he take the weekend off and then his plans had fallen through. Dean had asked Castiel if he wanted to go to the little theatre on the outskirts of town to watch an old classic horror, but Cas had cancelled, claiming a towering workload. Dean understood, exams and graduation were steadily approaching and Cas had seemed a little high strung.

They'd only had once chance to see each other outside of school that week, for an hour after he picked Dean up from work at the Roadhouse. They sat in Cas' car parked outside Dean's house, talking about everything from weird facts about pigs to the meaning of life, with make out breaks in between. It had been wonderful, yet Dean still felt Cas was being distant. He was worried Cas was getting bored of him. Dean could see him slowly easing himself away, using the time they'd already spent apart to really think about their relationship, and reconsider how high his morals really were. It was typical really, everyone left him eventually. Everyone would hurt him, it was only a matter of time before Cas did, he was sure of it.

Sam was even weirder as he climbed into the Impala after school. He had that sly grin again, bouncing in anticipation. Dean ignored him, still slightly burnt from the big secret Sam was hiding. "Can you stop here please?" Sam all but screamed as they passed the video store. Dean grunted, pulling his baby into reverse and swinging into the parking lot. As Sam leapt from the car, Dean was glad he'd finally been able to ditch the crutches for good. He could walk steadily again, and was back to driving and having his independence but every time he put too much pressure on his bad leg, it crumpled. Dean knew it would never be right again. His chest was completely healed save for one bruise that was still yellow on his lower chest that had been a particularly brutal hit. He was still wincing at the memory when Sam returned, bag laden with DVDs and various snacks.

He threw himself into the car, long limbs flailing. His knee connected with the dashboard loudly as he settled into his seat, dumping the bag of supplies on the floor of the Impala.

"Careful Sammy! Jesus!" Dean cried.

"Sorry!" Sam replied instantly, his tone guilty.

Dean grunted in response, turning up the radio, blasting Black Sabbath. Sam turned it back down, frowning at Dean. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Dean snapped.

Sam stayed silent until Dean stopped in front of their shabby little blue house. "We're having pizza for dinner." He told Dean firmly.

Dean just shrugged as he headed inside.

The house was unusually clean, and Dean wondered if Sam had tidied it while he'd been at work last night. Was Sam up to something, like a surprise party? He shuddered at the thought. Dean collapsed on his bed, opening the nearest book to him and immersed himself in it. It was near seven, when the doorbell rang, shaking him from the drowsy slumber he had fallen into. The sunlight that had been streaking through his window, warming him as he slept had slipped low in the horizon, chilling the air.

"Sammy! Door!" Dean called out lazily, rolling over on his bed, his book falling to the floor with a thud. After a minute, the doorbell rang again. Dean groaned and slowly made his way down to the door, muttering profanities towards Sam. He pulled the old oak door open, and stood stunned for a moment. Castiel grinned widely at him, a stack of pizza boxes in one hand, and a box of beer in the other. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" He asked cheekily. Dean leaned in to kiss him hard on the lips, before tugging him inside. "Cas" He breathed.

Cas laughed, setting down the pizza and beer before turning to embrace Dean.

"I thought you had to work late." Dean said after a long heavy kiss.

"I wanted to surprise you." Cas grinned. "Well, Sam did. He's had this planned for a while. Pizza movie night." He pulled Dean closer, staring into his emerald eyes. "Unless you wanted to be alone? I'll leave."

"Cas I swear to God, if you try to leave right now, there's no telling what I'll do to make you stay." Dean answered him seriously, holding him tighter. Cas just laughed heartily. "Good."

Sam peeked out from the hallway, his mop of brown hair overflowing onto his face. "Is it safe to come in?"

Dean glared at him, a smile forming on his lips. "You little shit."

Sam pranced into the room, opening the first box of pizza. "You love me." He said, winking at his brother. He was doing this for Dean. For Dean and Cas.

* * *

They curled up on the sofa eating pizza, Cas leaning into Dean's side, while Sam sat in the reclining chair, watching them out the corner of his eye, his expression slightly gleeful. Cas reached up and tugged lightly on Dean's hair. "You look like you've just rolled out of bed." He commented. Dean glanced at him guiltily, swallowing his bite of meat lover's pizza.

A loud honk outside startled Cas and Dean, but Sam just leapt up from his chair. "That's Jess' mom! We're finishing our project at her house. I'll be home later! Bye!" He yells, the door slamming behind him.

"What was that?" Dean asks confused as he stares at the door Sam abruptly left out of.

"I think that was your brother's not so subtle plan of leaving us alone." Cas replies, his eyebrows raised. Apparently he wasn't in on that part of the plan.

"Hey, Sammy got out DVDs? Do you want to watch one?" Dean grabbed the stack, inspecting them. Cas frowned as he held up a new horror movie. "Dean, no."

"Come on Cas, it's just a horror. It's not real, no one's gonna get you. If you get scared, I'm right here!" Dean convinced him, popping in the DVD. They cracked a beer each as the credits opened and before long Cas was curled into Dean, hiding his face, gripping him tightly around the waist, not watching the movie. Dean chuckles at him, and straightens out so they could lie curled up and spooning on the old couch.

"You scared babe?" Dean asks, looking over his shoulder.

Cas looks up him, wide blue eyes blinking. "Babe?"

"Ah shit, sorry Cas, I just…" Dean panicked. "No, no. it's fine. It's cute." Cas smiled, his face lighting up with the most innocence Dean had ever seen.

"I just thought it might be too early for pet names?" Dean inquired, as someone was ripped to shreds on the screen. Castiel winced lightly at the sound effects, before shaking his head. "I like it."

Dean grins at him and edges himself against the curve of Castiel's body, enjoying the feel of Cas' heartbeat against him, his own heart thumping erratically in his chest.

Several beers later and the horror was drawing to its climax, tension high, both in the movie and in the living room. Cas clutched Dean fearfully, barely looking at the screen, cringing every time someone screamed in the movie. Dean however, laughed and joked, often making crude remarks about all the fake blood and the bad acting. "Dude, you fugly." He told the horrifyingly scary antagonist. Cas shoved him lightly at that. "Is it too much for you?" Dean asked, his face concerned as Cas looked a little green. Cas nodded slowly and Dean ejected the DVD with a small chuckle. "Who would have thought? I'm the biggest horror and gore fan and my boyfriend can't even stomach this dumb movie. It wasn't even that scary Cas." He grins, turning to face Castiel, his face falling when he realises what he's said. "Sorry! I-"

"I'd like that." Castiel sits upright, folding his legs underneath him. Dean just stares for a moment. "What?" He asks, unsure if that's what Cas meant. "Boyfriend. I'd like it, being your boyfriend." Cas replies frankly. Dean all but launches himself at him, planting firm kisses all over Cas, causing them to fall to the floor. Cas laughs loudly, echoing around the empty house, before Dean covers Cas' mouth with his own and kisses him deeply, startling Cas to his core. They stay there for a while, kissing on the floor, hot and heavy, lips and tongues trailing, until Dean straddles Cas, fumbling with his dress shirt. Cas pulls away slowly, and presses his lips gently to Dean's neck. "How about another movie?"

It's a subtle warning that Dean respects, so they both climb back onto the couch, hands entwined as they flick through the movies. "Really Sam? Safe Haven?" Dean scoffed as he put it back in the pile. Cas' long slender fingers snatched it from him and he danced to the DVD player.

"Come on Dean, we watched your dumb movie. Let's watch this one now" He batted his long eyelashes, blue eyes shining. Dean rolled his own eyes in response. "You didn't think it was dumb as you were cowering into me."

"Shush, we're watching this." Cas said firmly, settling back down next to his boyfriend. "Funny Cas, I wouldn't have pegged you for a romance film guy." Dean said, cracking another beer.

"It's a well-kept secret." Cas winked, opening a beer of his own.

The movie was much too mushy for Dean's liking, but even he couldn't deny being wrapped up in the storyline. Sure, there was no blood and guts, but watching Cas out of the corner of his eye was the best part. He was so enthralled with the movie, his facial expressions dancing as the film played with his emotions. Dean didn't want to admit it, but the movie was so heart wrenching. He could feel Castiel moving restlessly beside him as the movie drew to a close.

"Hey Dean, we should go canoeing like that, straight out of a romance- hey… are you crying?" Cas sat up in shock, moving closer to Dean.

Dean pulled his eyes from the screen and hid his face. "Nah, just got something in my eye."

"Oh my god, you're crying." Cas whispered, his voice filled with warmth that made Dean want to leap on him and silence him with kisses.

"No I'm not!" Dean tried to turn away but Cas caught his hands and pulled him back.

"You liked it. The movie. I know you did." He whispered, pressing his forehead against Dean's.

Dean just stared at him for a long time, not breaking eye contact.

Castiel opened his mouth, to say it, but Dean pressed his lips against his firmly, mouth opening in prefect synchronisation with Cas. The kiss said it all. _Shhh, Don't ruin it._

* * *

At some point during a random movie they'd lost interest in, they'd had a few too many beers and decided to play monopoly and eat more cold pizza. Sam was disappointed when he arrived home to find them sprawled out on the floor, bickering about Dean's cheating, giggling like twelve year old girls. He'd expected to find them in a heated embrace, or locked up in Dean's bedroom. But no, they'd pulled out the old board games as if they were kids.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm home."

"Sammy! Come join!" Dean called, tipsy happiness lingering in his voice.

"Yeah, come on Sam! You can be banker. Your brother keeps cheating." Cas grins.

"I do not!" Dean argues.

"You do so! I've caught you three times now!"

Sam blinked at the two of them, so at ease with each other. Cas seemed to have lost his wariness, now openly expressing his feelings for Dean. Dean was reciprocating to an extent, but Sam could see he was still holding his guard up. That was the problem. Dean would think everyone was going to hurt him, so he never let them fully in. Sam had hoped Cas would be different for him.

"I'm going to bed, you two have fun." Sam disappeared upstairs, leaving them to glance at each other.

"Is he okay?" Cas asked Dean, brow furrowed. "I'll check on him later." Dean assured Cas, his hand brushing Castiel's in a casual manner, before he pulled the fake money from Cas' palm.

"Hey!" Cas exclaimed, mock glaring at Dean.

They were still battling over the monopoly board two hours later, so Dean took a break and knocked on Sam's door.

"What's going on?" Sam asked innocently from his bed as Dean peaked in the door.

"Nothing, you alright?"

"I'm fine, just hoping things go right between you too."

"This is what you were planning? A ridiculously sappy date." Dean says, a wide smile lighting up his face.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Thanks Sammy" Dean sat on the side of Sam's bed and leaned down to hug him.

"Just don't fuck this up Dean." Sam said quietly as Dean pulled away and tucked his blankets around him.

"What? What do you mean?"

"If you like Cas, you have to tell him. You have to let him in. If you love-"

"Don't." Dean interrupted him, his face falling.

"No Dean, I'm serious. Cas is a good guy. You have to let it go, not everyone is going to hurt you." Sam insisted, eyes intent on Dean's, urging him. "If you love him, tell him."

Dean didn't know what to say.

"Goodnight Sammy" He whispered on his way out.

He wandered back downstairs, finding Castiel half asleep on the couch, monopoly board abandoned. "Cas?" He whispered, kissing his forehead lightly.

Cas stirred, pale lids opening, intense blue eyes finding Dean's instantly.

"Cas, it's really late, and you're tired. I don't think you can drive home like this." Dean tells him. Cas just stares, eyes raking over Dean's defined cheekbones and sharp jaw. "Come on dreamy eyes, you can sleep in my room." Dean half lifts Cas off the sofa, surprising him with his strength. They make it up the stairs and into Dean's room, and Cas collapses on his bed.

It's almost déjà vu, with the roles reversed except this time, no one is hurt, only tipsy and tired.

"You alright?" He asks Cas, slightly concerned.

"Yeah, I'm great, I just wanted to lie down. Come here." Cas whispers, moving to make room for Dean. Dean shuts the door and lies down next to Cas, their fingers intertwining almost instantly.

They talk in low, hushed tones, the only light coming from Dean's lamp in the corner, the darkness settling around them, like a warm blanket.

Cas rolls over to face Dean, bringing their intertwined hands up to brush Dean's cheek, leaning forward until his lips met Dean's in a slow, languid kiss. Dean pulled him flush against him, his tongue flicking over Cas' bottom lip. Cas eyes widen in shock, but he responds willingly. His mouth opens against Dean's, soft warm hands crawling up under Dean's shirt, gliding over smooth skin. Suddenly Dean's tee shirt is gone, bodies pressing back together as ravenous mouths explored. Cas focused on leaving a mark low on Dean's collar bone as Dean worked him out of his pale blue dress shirt, discarding it on the floor. Dean moaned softly as he leaned into Cas' touch, hands grappling for something stable, landing on either side of Cas' chest as he rolled on top of him. They were both panting as Dean stared down at Cas for a minute, catching his breath.

"What's the time?"

"It's 2.40 in the morning, why?" Cas tells him, somewhat confused.

"It's my birthday." Dean says against Cas' neck, landing soft tender kisses there.

"How old are you?" Cas whispers, his tone light. It doesn't matter to him, not in the slightest, but he still isn't sure how Dean feels about the age gap.

Dean tensed, pulling back to look at Cas. Their eyes lingered for a moment before he hesitantly opened his mouth. "How old are you?" He asked slowly, avoiding Cas' question.

"I'm twenty-four." Cas stares at him, expression unreadable.

"I'm eighteen today. I was born at 2am" Dean says.

"Happy birthday Dean." Cas leans up to kiss him, but he keeps it light, scared Dean will want to run.

They are both quiet, and Dean slowly lowers himself back down beside Cas.

"Am I too young for you?" Dean asks, unable to keep the anxiety from his voice.

Cas rolls into him, pulling him against his bare chest, arms holding him tight. His heart beats loudly with relief. "No. You're an old soul. You're just right." He plants a kiss on Dean's shoulder and they fall asleep in each other's arms, blissfully happy.

* * *

Dean wakes up to a voice that is not Cas'.

"Happy Birthday!" Jo yells in his ear, shaking him awake. His eyes fly open, shocked and surprised at her presence. "Jo, what are you doing?" Dean sits upright, noticing the empty space beside him in bed. He can still make out the shape of Cas in the sheets. _He slept and bailed?_

"It's your birthday silly! We're having brunch!" Jo replies excitedly, apparently missing his panic and hurt.

"I was not told about this" Dean mutters, crawling out of his bed, putting on the nearest pair of pants. They're not his, they're Cas'. _Cas is still here?_

"It's a surprise party of sorts. Of course we didn't tell you." Jo glances down at the scattered clothes on the floor. "Dean…" She starts, but then the door to the bathroom across the hall and Cas stumbles into the room, bed hair standing up on end, a yawn on his plump lips, chest muscled and taut as his arms stretch over his head. The sight is heavenly to Dean, but it gives Jo more than a shock. The room is silent for a full second as Cas opens his eyes and sees them both standing there staring at him.

"Oh. Good morning Miss Harvelle." Cas says, his tone even and normal as he slips into Dean's pair of jeans discarded on the floor. They're a size or two too small and fit a little too snugly. If Jo wasn't in the room, staring at them with a horrified expression, Dean would have already made a rude comment about his ass. Jo looks away as Dean and Cas find shirts, thankfully this time, their own.

"Um Jo, I'll meet you downstairs in a minute" Dean says awkwardly to Jo. She just gives him a meaningful look and disappears out the door.

"She doesn't like me, does she?" Castiel asks Dean with a sigh.

"No it's not that, she just didn't expect to find a teacher mostly naked in my bedroom on the morning of my eighteenth birthday." Dean laughs, pulling Cas in for a kiss.

They hear voices moving downstairs and it finally occurs to Dean that Jo is not alone.

"I have to go, don't I?" Cas asked.

Dean nodded. "I'm guessing that's Bobby and Ellen and everyone else downstairs, and I can't really come out as gay _and_ introduce my boyfriend who happens to be my teacher to them all without giving them some warning first." He chuckles.

"Come to my place tonight? I'll cook you dinner." Cas kisses him again, before finding his shoes and opening the window.

"What are you doing?"

"The front door is a bit too obvious."

"Oh right." Dean watches as he lowers himself out of the window

"I'll text you later. Happy birthday!" Castiel calls, before he climbs the trellis and drops out of sight. Dean just shakes his head and laughs, before heading downstairs to face up to his best friend.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long guys. Hope you like it. Hope it wasn't too fluffy or anything. I assure you, more angst is coming. And some sexiness. Please be patient with me, writer's block sucks. Constructive criticism and ideas are welcome.


	10. Hiatus?

Hey guys, first and foremost, I wanted to say thank you.

Thank you to all the readers of this fic; to everyone who followed and favourited; to all my regular reviewers and the people who helped me out with ideas and prompts.

I really appreciate you guys!

I'm sorry to say though, that I seem to have run out of steam for this fic. I don't really know where I want to take it, but It's my first attempt, and I'm too sentimental to delete it. So I'll just leave this here for when I have the ideas and energy to continue it and do it the justice Dean and Cas deserve.

It's kinda going on hiatus? But like Fall Out Boy, it will be back!

Please if you have anything to ask, or suggest in ways of ideas and endings to this fic, send me a private message, or leave a review on a chapter and I'll see it at some point.

I will return to this fic, I'm just not sure when.

I have another fic in the works, again Castiel is a teacher and Dean is an ex-student. What can I say, I have a liking for older, teacher Cas ;)


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